


A Sure Thing

by abriata



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-12
Updated: 2010-11-12
Packaged: 2017-10-15 19:39:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/164287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abriata/pseuds/abriata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>High class hooker!Kris and the least angsty prostitute fic ever written. (Or maybe not the <em>least</em>.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Sure Thing

**Author's Note:**

> For [**aivilo_18**](http://aivilo-18.dreamwidth.org/profile), who got me in the [**help_pakistan**](http://help-pakistan.dreamwidth.org/profile) charity auction. Thanks go to [**dansetheblues**](http://dansetheblues.dreamwidth.org/profile) for her wonderful pointers and to [**adamaddict_rh**](http://adamaddict-rh.dreamwidth.org/profile), for being invaluable with getting this to its current incarnation.

Adam has no clue what time it is, probably because there's no clock mixed in with the tasteful decor of the room. A strategic move on their part - when someone's paying by the hour you don't want to be reminding them of their dollars ticking away. He's also got no phone, since the nice woman at the door took it with a line about safeguarding guest and employee privacy. Adam had wondered a little at the safety of the contents of his phone, but there wasn't anything else for it. He rolls over, stretching, trying not to nudge his bedmate in the process. He thinks he's fairly successful but he's only just sat up went the guy touches his shoulder lightly and says, "Hey."

Adam turns enough to see him out of the corner of his eye. He's pale, slow-eyed like he was actually still asleep and not just pretending. Adam appreciates the effort, even if it is just a ruse. He says _hey_ back, because there's no call for being rude.

"Is that it?" The guy smiles, sleepily amused.

"You wouldn't happen to know the time, would you?" Adam says blithely, ignoring the question. The guy's not even wearing a watch.

"I'm afraid not," the guy says after a slight pause. "You know, there are hotels just down the road," he continues hesitantly when Adam stands and tugs at his clothes, trying to look like he didn't just crash in a foreign bed without so much as taking off his shoes.

Adam says, "I don't need a room," obliquely, because there's no obligation to explain himself here. He wishes he remembered the guy's name, though, so there wasn't such an obvious pause after he says, "Goodbye, and thank you."

\---

Kris really fucking hates his clients sometimes. The reason Hannah asks them how long they'll need accompaniment for is because their companion does actually have a life outside of work, but now Kris has missed his Comparative Religion seminar for the third time this semester, and he's only halfway through.

"Fuck," he says miserably, dropping his head on Hannah's planner. "The professor's going to kill me."

"No," Hannah says sympathetically, petting his hair. "You'll be fine. He'll probably just drop you from his class."

Kris moans.

"It's your own fault, anyway. You knew she was going to be late getting you back here, you should've just had her drop you somewhere on campus."

Making a disgruntled noise, Kris picks his head up. Hannah knows Kris tries to keep work and school separate – just because she has a fiancé who's cool with the fact that she's a secretary for a glorified brothel doesn't mean the rest of them are so lucky.

"Quit whining," Hannah says. "You love your job, and if Megan catches you griping you're a dead man."

Kris does love his job. When Megan had sat next to him in the cafeteria freshman year and said _hey, maybe whoring yourself out to get through school isn't such a bad idea, want to be an escort with me?_ Kris had thought she was joking. The first paycheck had sealed the deal for him, though, and now he's seven months from graduating and has no student loans – a remarkable feat, considering UCLA's tuition increases the past couple years.

"What's up with you?" Megan asks, coming in whistling. "Aren't you in class right now?"

Kris makes a face at her and Hannah explains, "Miss Giamatti."

Megan says, "Oh, late again?"   
Kris nods. As much as he appreciates Nicole – and he does, she's a regular, a wonderful conversationalist and gorgeous to boot, and if it weren't for her paranoid streak she'd be married four times over – she can be a little selfish. She just thinks that everyone she dates is after her money, so somewhere along the line she decided to pay outright for her romance rather than skirt the issue. Kris certainly isn't going to try to talk her out of it, even if a six year old could tell her the chauffeur's in love with her. It's not his place.

"I've got Mr. Schumacher tonight," Megan says, sighing.

Kris can sympathize. He doesn't get too many of the senior crowd, his looks endear him to different clientele, but everyone hates Mr. Schumacher.

"So, hey," Hannah says before Megan heads up to get ready. "How'd it go with the famous guy last night?"   
"Oh, who?" Megan asks, interest piqued, and Kris waves his hand at them both.

"Fine," he says, because nobody in their business lasts long if they kiss and tell.

"You were with him an awfully long time," Hannah says suspiciously.

"Who was it?" Megan persists, poking Kris' shoulder.

"That guy," Hannah frowns. She's terrible with names, which is really a bad trait for a hostess. "The one with the billboard up on 8th."

"Oh," Megan says, dragging it out. "The singer, right?"   
"Adam Lambert," Kris says, because otherwise they'll be here all night.

"And it was just _fine_?" Megan says dubiously. Hannah giggles. "Isn't he—"

"A client," Kris says pointedly. They're not supposed to talk about it, and if Mark or Anna catches them at it there'll be lectures and docked paychecks. "Don't you have to get ready?"

Megan sighs again but goes. Mr. Schumacher is one of the controlling ones, he sends up outfits and makeup and perfume for whatever girl he's bought that evening, and he expects them to be ready whenever he deems to show up. In short, he's an asshole, but he's a well-paying one and he's too old to want anything more than the company.

"I'll see you next week," Kris reminds Hannah. He's got an exam Monday that he plans to spend all weekend studying for, and he's booked all of Saturday already. Hannah's promised to keep the new requests away.

"Good luck!" she calls after him. Kris shoulders his backpack and goes to catch the bus.

Except, of course, he's been holed up for five hours in his room with half a box of old pizza when his phone goes off. He checks the display – "Always make sure, Kris," Anna told him. "Don't give clients your private number or answer any unknown call." – and groans when he sees it's work. "Hannah—" he answers tiredly, but she talks over him.

"Yes, hello Mr. Albert, I'm calling to see if you're open for another appointment tonight?"

"What?" Kris says blankly. Hannah never uses their professional names.

"I understand," she says pleasantly. "Please hold."

Kris pulls his phone back to stare at it. "What the hell?" he repeats.

"Kris," Hannah comes back on, hissing. "The famous guy's asking for you again, what do you want me to tell him?"

"My study schedule doesn't change just because he's famous," Kris says, irritated. She knows better.

"Yes, but Anna's already talked to him personally, and he only wants you. Just in house, again, whatever you did last time must've made an impression." Her voice dipped to faintly admiring.

"I have to _study_ ," Kris repeats futilely, because they both know he'll come in. Kris never says no. It's why he makes Hannah promise not to ask if he's too busy.

"I'm sorry, but he's really determined," Hannah says, voice small. "Do you want me to charge him double-time?"

"Yes," Kris says morosely. "Not that it'll help me if I fail this test. Put him in my room." Part of his problem, Kris decides as he locks his apartment door, is that he only lives fifteen minutes from work. He wouldn't be able to do this shit if he were all the way across town.

Hannah stands up and flaps her hands at him when he comes in, grimacing. He hasn't taken a shower yet today, and he feels grimy and tired.

"Thanks so much for coming, Kris," she says, making apologetic kissing faces. "I just couldn't say no, he's so sweet and—"

"You let him talk you into calling me," Kris says flatly. "We're the escorts, we're supposed to be the charming ones, you traitor."

She makes a wounded noise at his back. He ignores her, dropping his bag behind the desk. God knows he can't stay mad for long; he's going to hold out while he can. Adam's sitting on the end of the bed when he comes in and smiles at him. "I appreciate you coming," he says, and Kris almost glowers, because he actually sounds fucking _sincere_.

Kris smiles instead. "What do you need?"

Adam gestures him over. "Sleep."

Bemused, Kris lays down with him again. "There are stuffed animals for this," he says before he can stop himself.

"Not ones with a pulse," Adam says, yawning. He snuggles in closer. "And besides, you're much more adorable than the standard teddy bear."

"It'd be less expensive than this," Kris goes on, wincing because, hello, what is he doing, talking away a client, but Adam says, "I can afford it," smiling, and, "Shh, sleeping."

Kris blinks up at the ceiling for maybe five minutes before he rolls over and cuddles in.

\---

Adam's gone when he wakes up. Kris lies still for a while, contemplating this. On one hand, sleeping is exactly what Adam's paying him for. On the other hand, ignoring the client as they leave is incredibly poor business practice.

Then he says, "Shit!" and gets down to the lobby as quickly as he can.

Hannah laughs at him as he grabs his bag from under her feet. "He left like two hours ago, have you been asleep or something?"

"Shut up," Kris says. "I'm going to miss the stupid charity event."

Hannah's eyes widen. "With Francis? He'll kill you!"

"My suit's at my apartment, what time is it?"

"Ten," she says. "When does it start?"

"Two," Kris says grimly. "But he's coming to get me at eleven."

"Nice," Hannah says, carefully neutral. She, like almost everyone, hates Francis. He's a big producer or something, and a complete dick. Unfortunately, he's also been a loyal client for almost two decades – Megan says it's because he's too terrible to ever have a real relationship. Kris thinks it's because the power in owning an escort for a couple of days at a time does more for him than anything else ever would. Also unfortunately, he's taken a shine to Kris, and Kris has been his only companion for the last two years. Francis has probably paid Kris' tuition all on his own.

Kris waves at Hannah and runs home. He has to shower anyway, and it'll take too long if he waits for the bus. He's sweated through his clothes when he gets there (fucking LA) and has about forty minutes to be picture perfect for Francis, but he's had worse odds. He waves cheerfully at Cale as he slams past him and gets an eyeroll in return. It's pretty awesome having a roommate who doesn't care that they share an apartment with a hooker.

He's ready with twelve minutes to spare and has no clue what to do with himself now that all the frenetic energy has no place to go. Cale snorts when he goes and sits next to him on the couch. "You've been busy," he says, as close an allusion to Kris' work as he'll get.

"Charity concert and dinner," Kris says, "for some kind of disease." He'd feel guilty for not remembering, and at the beginning he'd tried to, but he goes to at least one event a month and they all start to run together.

"Cool," Cale says appreciatively. "Bring back food?"

Kris shakes his head. "Not coming back tonight."

Cal makes a face. Kris ignores him. He usually tries to charm leftovers out of the wait staff and he's always pretty successful, and Kris suspects it may be one of the reasons Cale's so accepting of his occupation. Or it could be that Cale moonlighted as a stripper for about two weeks and doesn't have much moral high ground to stand on.

When the doorbell goes off Kris stands and tries to straighten his suit. It's all wrinkled, which Francis will pitch a fit about. It's good though – real transgressions are easier to play along to than the fictional ones. Kris cracks the door, slipping through quickly. Francis is the only client who knows where he lives, but that doesn't mean he needs to see any more of Kris' life. It's the driver, though, and Kris trails him down to the car, sliding in.

Francis smiles at him proprietarily, looking him over. He says, "So nice to see you again, darling."

Kris hates his voice. It's poor Southerner plastered over with false niceties and out-of-date phrases. It's Francis' accent, now, like a sheen of oil he can't wash off, and every time Kris hears it he aches for the guy he thinks once would've said Ma and Gawd, and both with the same reverence. Francis doesn't have any family now.

"Hey," Kris says, drawing it out and thickening his own accent. Francis likes to be reminded of home.

"You're a mess," he's told, though he really isn't. This is where it starts, and it's easy like a second skin to drop his eyes and say, "Yeah, I'm sorry," ashamed, and go where the hands pull him.

\---

"I really support the cause," Francis says, and Kris stops rubbing at his wrists to listen. He sounds irritated, which is unusual for anyone right after getting laid and almost unheard of from Francis. Anna says Kris makes him sweet.

"So what's up?" Kris prompts when Francis just broods, staring out the window at the LA sun. He'll probably damage his eyes if he isn't distracted and Kris believes in keeping his clients intact.

"The performer is a man I despise. His team hired me to work on his last album, and he is the most singularly selfish, difficult artist I've ever worked with." Francis finishes this with a delicate sniff, as if ridding himself of the matter.

Kris has to remind himself that it's not appropriate to smile while he makes consoling noises. He is curious who's doing the concert though. Francis is usually the worst person in the room.

When they pull up outside the event hall Francis makes a harrumphing noise and Kris pats his knee soothingly. He may only be in his forties, but, good fitness regimen or not, it probably wouldn't hurt to watch his blood pressure.

They spend an hour or so mingling in the lobby, where Kris does his best to mitigate Francis' personality. He's been with Francis long enough that he's a familiar face to some of the people who run in these circles, so he fields a few nice queries about how he's been and his plans for the next couple of months, and he ignores a few unkind comments about how long he's managed to put up with Francis. Some executive's wife has just trapped him with pictures of her prize Pomeranians when Francis comes to lay a possessive hand on his back and lead him to their table as the doors open. Dinner isn't until six so they've got a couple hours of speakers, and Kris actually listens to this sort of thing. Or he tries to, until Francis gets handsy about halfway through so Kris has to go blow him in the bathroom.

The ushers don't even blink when they go in together – Kris loves high-class establishments – but Kris does make Francis go out before him. He waits five minutes, rinsing his mouth out while he has the time. Pre-lubed condom is not the best taste to leave sitting on your tongue.

Turns out he should've waited longer, though. He walks out of the restroom and steps right in the middle of Francis' most recent argument. He says, "Excuse me," very quietly, trying to play it off as is appropriate, and Francis says, "Oh, Karl, good, I'd like to introduce you to tonight's charity artist," and pulls him around to stand next to him. "Adam, Karl's my date for this evening. Karl, this is Adam Lambert."

Absurdly, Kris thinks it's nice to meet a client outside of work. He doesn't mean to meet Adam's eyes – eye contact destroys anonymity, which is an escort's best friend – but he does and then he's too wary to look away, because instead of embarrassed or scared Adam looks only surprised and sharply amused. Kris' stomach drops and he wonders abruptly just how bad the blood is between Francis and Adam. Most clients would never dare say a thing, never mind the confidentiality agreements, because admitting they know an escort is admitting they've solicited one, but Adam isn't looking away.

"Oh," Adam says, grabbing Kris' hand to shake. "Is that your name?" he asks, while he's appraising his clothes, and Kris shifts his weight back, self-conscious for the first time in years.

"It's nice to meet you," Kris tries, but Adam looks right past him and says, "We seem to have unfortunately similar tastes in _dates_ , then," to Francis, and Kris closes his eyes and for exactly six seconds wishes he'd stayed in bed this morning. Then he's too busy holding tight to Francis' arm, restraining him, and saying, "You're mistaken, Mr. Lambert, I'm sure," while Adam watches them calculatingly.

Adam says, "I'm really not, and don't you think last names are uncalled for at this point?"

And what the hell? Kris just stares at him, clueless as to how he's supposed to handle this. Clients don't _announce_ things like this, and besides, Adam has nothing to announce. Francis is sputtering next to him.

Adam goes on, "But really, you are busy, aren't you? Do you do this every night, or do you have days off like the rest of us?"

Kris finally says, "I have no idea what you're referring to," because he will not allow any client to assault his career, even if he loses their patronage because of it.

Adam laughs. "Come on, there's only us. One escort and two – what did that Hannah girl call us? Clients?"

"Is this true?" Francis finally gets out, turning and spitting it at Kris.

Kris doesn't flinch, but it's a close thing. He steps away, drawing himself straight and going carefully still. If they're going to talk business he's under no obligation to keep playing his part. "My job has nothing to do with either of you, and if it did I wouldn't be able to discuss it," which is as good as saying yes and also gives him grounds to strike both of them from the books if they keep asking.

Kris doesn't know Adam well enough to judge, but Francis gets the message. He looks back at Adam, furious, but says, "We're looking forward to your performance," though it sounds painful to say. He grabs Kris' arm tightly, pulling him back down the hallway, and Kris can't help the slight hiss when his fingers close around already bruised wrists. Adam's eyes flick down and then back up, amusement gone, but he doesn't say anything as they leave.

Back at the table all of Kris' hard work has been undone. Francis is wound tight as a spring, angry and impatient for the night to be over. Kris is tense, too, because for the rest of the night he's still Francis' and he'd bet anything that it's not going to be pleasant. He wants to ignore the performance, professional courtesy on Francis' behalf and his own hurt pride, but he lasts maybe two minutes with eyes averted, watching shadows play on the wall before he has to watch, has to see.

Francis catches him halfway through – he's a hypocrite, he was staring just as much as the rest of them, but Kris can't say that – and pulls him out forcibly, barely stopping long enough to grab their coats. Kris knows Adam watches them leave, because they're the only ones standing, the only ones rude enough to leave a charity event for dying children. All of Kris' manners are cringing at it, but he's only got until they get to the car to feel guilty. They tumble in and Francis has his chauffeur take them to his house, but as soon as the car's away from the curb he's pulling Kris to him, harsh. "I want you for the whole weekend," he snaps.

Kris extricates himself and says, firmly, "No."

"I beg your pardon?" Francis snarls, reaching for him again, but Kris folds his arms and says, "I said no, Mr. Partridge."

Francis' mouth tightens, and for a moment Kris thinks he won't listen. But he does, of course he does – he'd spent one night trying to convince Kris they didn't need to use condoms, that the sex would be better without, and had gone so far as to attempt to distract Kris from it. Bad idea, thinking sex is ever that distracting for someone who does it for a living, and Kris had left three hours in. He had also declined every one of Francis' requests for six weeks, and at the end of it Francis had actually apologized, in so many words, for overstepping Kris' boundaries. It was the most human Kris had seen him up to that point, and he'd taken him back on. Interestingly enough, it was also from that point onward that Francis never requested anyone else, and until now he's never tried to push Kris into anything he doesn't readily agree to at first mention.

Kris moves back over to him, distraction if nothing else. He knows better than to mention jealousy, even as a game, because he can't joke about something if it's true.

\---

Kris complains about it to Hannah the next day he comes in, and she listens to him, laughing without telling him why.

"This really isn't funny," Kris says. "He recognized me. I don't want to be publicly known as a hooker, even if it is a fake name."

"No, I'm not laughing about that," Hannah says. "It's just that these came for you," grabbing a bouquet from behind the desk to show him.

Kris frowns. Francis has never sent him flowers before. You don't do that, that's the whole point of an escort. "I still don't get why this is funny," he says, dropping the card in the trash.

She giggles a little and says, "These also came for you."

"What the hell?" Kris asks the second bouquet. It's the ugliest arrangement of flowers he's ever seen – most of them are spiky and weird colors. He's pretty sure one of the plants is oozing. "It's disgusting."

"Kris!" Hannah says, appalled. "It's a tropical arrangement."

"Uh huh," Kris says, making a face. "Who's it from?"

"Here's the card," Hannah says, not even bothering to pretend she didn't look at it.

 _I owe you an apology for my behavior the other day.  
Francis and I bring out the worst in each other.  
Forgive me?_

"Oh, fuck," Kris sighs, and Hannah says, "See? He's really sweet. Also, he booked you tomorrow."

"What's that?" Megan demands, pushing through the doors with a clatter born of six shopping bags and five-inch stilettos.

"Nothing," Kris yelps, fleeing upstairs, and Hannah says, "You won't believe—"

\---

Hannah doesn't let Kris throw the flowers away, and he shows up Tuesday night and finds that they've snuck their way into his room. He yells something at her and shoves them in the closet since he doesn't have time to take them out to the trash. Adam should be here in fifteen minutes and Kris will be waiting when he gets here. This is going to remain strictly professional – they will not talk about Kris, Francis, or anything in between. Megan says he should at least thank him for the flowers. Hannah says he should confess that Francis really is a dick, it's not just Adam. Kris isn't going to say anything, thanks, now get your asses out of my room.

"Francis really is a dick," Kris says, when Adam comes in smiling, "and thanks for the flowers." There's a muffled thump and the distinct sound of giggling outside the door.

"Are they eavesdropping?" Adam asks.

"Excuse me," Kris says, trying to push past him, but Adam says, "No, let me."

"Want to join us?" He offers cheerfully, opening the door on Megan and Hannah, and they both start laughing, darting back down the hallway.

Kris sits on the edge of the bed, mortified. "Oh my god, I apologize for them."

"It's fine," Adam says, looking amused.

Flopping back to stare at the ceiling, Kris says, "It's really not," then, "What are you doing?"

"Poking around," Adam says, like it's obvious, which, point. He's opening all the cabinets and going through the bookshelves.

Kris has no problem letting him explore. These rooms aren't personal, for the most part. He chose the decorating scheme but the books are all just the top sellers from recent years and all the pictures are vague, abstract color. His backpack and extra clothes are in the closet, but the door is – not hidden, exactly, but you have to slide one of the bookshelves back to get in it.

Adam opens the door to the bathroom and starts checking the cabinets in there. "And you're welcome, by the way."

"Seriously," Kris says, sitting back up. "Why are you looking through everything?"

"I'm curious," Adam calls out. He's looking at the products spread on the counter.

Obviously. Kris rolls his eyes because Adam can't see him. He doesn't ask _about what_. He's pretty sure Adam is avoiding the question deliberately.

"It's like a _hotel_ ," Adam says, coming back out and shutting the door. He seems rather pleased at the idea. Kris shakes his head, bemused, and Adam turns to the wall and says, "Oh, closet."

Kris says, "How—"

"Well, obviously you have to put your stuff somewhere," Adam says disdainfully. "Also, the tracks on the floor and ceiling maybe give it away, if you guys were going for secrecy." He nudges the backpack with his foot. "Are you a student?"

Kris bristles, but Adam backs out and slides the bookshelf back over before he can say anything stupid. But now Kris is really confused, because if he isn't trying to dig up personal stuff what _is_ he doing?

Adam drops himself onto the bed and Kris jumps, blinking at him. "I'm wound, sorry," Adam informs him. "I'm pretty sure I've had my weight in caffeine today."

"That's okay," Kris says smoothly. "I'm sure we can get you to relax."

Adam cracks up. "That's terrible. Do you actually use that line?"

"Hey, it works!" Kris says defensively.

"I'll bet," Adam says.

Kris crawls up to be eye level. "What do you want then?"

"Talk," Adam suggests. "Or I'll start, and we don't want that."

Taking a deep, slow breath – it's not a sigh so long as it's not audible – Kris says, "What do you want me to talk about?"

"Anything," Adam says comfortably. "Not yourself, since you'd probably freak out at the mention of it, except, I do want to know your name."

"Karl," Kris says.

"No, it's not," Adam says.

"Yes, it is," Kris says, irritated.

Adam sighs, sounding put upon. "No, it's not. That's your hooker name. What's your real name?"

Kris glares at him.

"Tell me or I'll name you," Adam threatens.

Kris shrugs. That's pretty common, not that he's going to say that.

"And I'll make a dedication to your fake name and this company on my next album," Adam continues.

"Kris," Kris says.

"I thought so," Adam says, pleased with himself.

"You're an ass," Kris tells him.

"You're incredibly unprofessional," Adam tells him back, and then Kris is laughing. This is all completely ridiculous.

"So, Kris," Adam says. "What's your favorite TV show?"

\---

He's gone again when Kris wakes up. It's becoming a familiar pattern, and a little uncomfortable.

"Do you think we can get a motion alarm set up?" Kris asks Hannah blearily.

"That would work," she snorts. "Because it's not like people use those rooms just for—"

"I meant on the _door_ ," Kris says.

Cale is glad to see him when he gets home, which is how Kris knows he's been gone too much – Cale is not the most high-maintenance of roommates. By Friday they desperately need groceries and maybe light bulbs, because not everyone likes to live in the dark, and yes, Kris does care even if he isn't here most evenings. He drags Cale along to the store the next night, because it's the principle of the matter, and then when they get home Francis is waiting outside.

"Shit," Kris says.

"I'm pretty sure we could take him, dude," Cale says, looking Francis over dubiously. "He doesn't look like that great a robber."

"That's Francis," Kris says, "and shut up. Are you stupid?"

Cale takes some of the bags inside, giving Kris a look. Kris tells Francis, "Nice to see you again," and really means _what the fuck are you doing on my doorstep_.

"Sorry to intrude," Francis says, sounding mildly sheepish. "I wanted to apologize in person."

Kris wonders if this is part of the new therapist's rehabilitation plan. Francis would rather choke on his own vomit than admit he's wrong. "No need," Kris says, as graciously as possible while his car ticks cool behind him and Cale comes out for another load of bags.

"Well, I was also wondering if you were free tonight," Francis says, nodding his head. "To do something with me, that is."

Cale's head hits the top of the trunk and he swears quietly, edging around them to scurry back inside.

"All appointments have to be made through Hannah," Kris says cautiously, because he has no clue what's going on. He's not going to say he doesn't work Friday nights – he does, sometimes, and he wouldn’t say no right now anyway. He's curious as to why he's being asked, if there's something that just came up.

"Ah, no," Francis says.

"Sorry?" Kris says. "What?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing," Francis says, but he pulls out his phone and Kris narrows his eyes. He's _fidgeting_. "I'll call her."

"Look," Kris says. "I'll take care of it. It still has to be put in the computer, but it's okay. I'm free tonight."

"Good," Francis says, looking pleased. "What about the rest of the weekend?"

"Um," Kris says. He's genuinely asking, is the thing, and Kris has gone away with him before. "Is this a personal visit, or—"

"Last minute business trip," Francis says. "Seattle, some board approval meeting, I don't precisely know."

He's lying. Of course he knows. Kris doesn't share his business details, so he doesn't begrudge Francis his privacy. "I'll have to—" he starts, but Francis flips his phone in his hands again and Kris gives in. He has got to stop doing that. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

"And you'll arrange it?" Francis asks.

"Yeah," Kris says, and opens his mouth to ask for details. He needs to know clothes, travel plans—

"Alright. I'll pick you up in two hours, be ready to go," Francis says breezily, and drops back into his car, turning the key.

Kris says, "Well, there went the manners," but Francis has already pulled away from the curb.

\---

Hannah makes unhappy noises at him when he calls her. He ignores her for the most part, busy trying to look up the weather in Seattle while he packs.

"It's _Seattle_ ," she says. "It'll be raining."

"Thank you," Kris says.

"But really, I don't think you should go," she says stubbornly.

"You never think I should go," Kris says.

"I'm right," she tries.

"Thank you," Kris repeats, and hangs up.

Francis falls asleep on Kris' shoulder on the plane. Kris watches him for a while, bemused. First class seats have more than enough room, and he had to have slumped over on purpose. He also wakes up too smoothly when the plane lands to actually have been asleep.

There's a driver waiting for them, courtesy of the company, and Kris gets eyed speculatively. He smiles blandly in response.

"There's a dinner both nights, I'm afraid," Francis says. He's not complaining yet, but Kris knows that will change once they've sat through the first one.

"Business, charity, or personal?" Kris asks, because it's important to know these things in advance.

"Business," Francis says. Kris does his best not to sigh. It looks like he'll be sitting at the hotel for most of the trip.

"I've told them you're my assistant," Francis continues.

Kris says, "Oh, kinky," testing the waters.

Francis laughs, but he's preoccupied, and he just pats Kris' leg companionably.

So Kris goes with on his business dinner, and stays quiet and sits in the corner with the wives and girlfriends. One or two of them ask why he's let his boss drag him along instead of a wife, and Kris hints at an ugly divorce. Francis can thank him later for giving his social life a semblance of normalcy. That night Francis doesn't touch him much, just a couple of light kisses before rolling over and going to sleep.

After they get breakfast, which Francis makes Kris choose, they go on a walking tour. Kris is willing to admit he's completely confused at this point. Francis hates physical exercise, and wouldn't get up from his desk chair if it weren't for his physical trainer. When Francis has Kris at his beck and call he usually chooses to never get out of bed.

They go to the dinner that evening, but duck out early to hop back on the plane. Kris dozes on the way back, too, and Francis drops him at his apartment. Kris appreciates not having to take a cab from the airport, but he's so tired that all he manages is to lean over and kiss Francis' cheek before he gets out of the car.

He feels strangely disconnected the rest of the week, but he's got Miss Giamatti Monday night. He flirts and cuddles with her, and she sends him home at a respectable hour when he makes a pointed comment about how long she kept him last time. Adam doesn't book him Tuesday.

\---

One of the other escorts comes down with the flu and Kris ends up volunteering to take up the slack. Megan does, too, but there's too many for her to handle all of them. It's an interesting week, at least – Kris hasn't had new clients in over a year. He actually sort of misses the novelty.

"Francis called to book you Tuesday," Hannah tells him when he comes downstairs Sunday night. "He wasn't happy when I said you were busy."

"He wouldn't be," Kris said. "Wait, I'm not busy Tuesday."

"Yes, you are," Hannah said smugly. "I've blocked out all your Tuesdays for Adam."

Kris stares at her. "I have no clue what to say to that. He didn't even ask for me last week."

"But he might this week. And like you’d object," she snickers. "He's absolutely one of your favorites."

"We don't play favorites," Kris says, reciting company policy.

"The _hell_ we don't," Megan says, clattering down in sandals. Her hair's still wet. "I don’t know how Yvonne puts up with that one, he was horrible. I felt like I was going to fall _asleep_ in the middle, he was so bad."

"We aren't supposed to play favorites," Kris amends.

"Yeah, well, I am and so are you," Hannah says. "Anyway, Francis rebooked for Friday, instead. And don't forget you have Yvonne's last guy tomorrow."

"Yeah," Kris says.

Yvonne's last guy turns out to be a little less boring than all the rest. Kris meets him for dinner at some French restaurant before accompanying him back to his apartment, where the guy proceeds to show Kris a room full of toys, some of which Kris has never actually seen before. He almost spends more time negotiating with the guy – no blood, no electricity, nothing metal – than he does fucking him, and by the time Kris leaves they're both glad to see the back of the other.

\---

He's fucking sore the next day, so he skips classes and lazes around until dinner, and then he whines at Cale until he brings them both food. Then Cale drops his burger in his lap and says, "Dude, aren't you going to be late?"

"Shit," Kris says feelingly.

Hannah says, "He's waiting for you upstairs," which, thanks, Kris figured out, seeing how he's twenty minutes late. Every step up the stairs makes his spine twinge.

Kris slides onto the bed, wincing. Adam turns on his side to watch him. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Kris says. "Just some bruises, you know."

"Really," Adam prompts.

"Yes," Kris lies. "My roommate and I were screwing around. I ended up rolling down half a flight of stairs."

"And lived to tell the tale," Adam says dryly. "Resilient."

"Well," Kris says. "I've done worse."

"I bet," Adam says, but Kris swears he avoids touching his back on purpose.

There's a note when he wakes up. It says, _I meant to ask about your roommate. Tell me next time._

Kris does, even though Adam doesn't ask, but Kris does end up waxing poetic about his favorite ice cream chains until Adam's long-asleep, which is actually kind of nice. Adam leaves him another note, putting in his vote for Carvel.

In fact, he gets a note every week for a month, and he still never manages to fucking wake up first. But finally, four weeks later, when he does wake up Adam's still there. He starts to yawn before he catches himself, and ends up taking a hiccupping breath and coughing instead. Wonderful.

Adam smiles at him, already wide-awake. He even has his shoes on.

"What's up?" Kris asks, a little cautious.

"Can I ask you to sleep at my house with me?" Adam asks philosophically, like he's actually sure that's not allowed.

Kris can't help laughing a little. "You can take me anywhere you want."

"Hm," Adam says, and then pushes himself up. "Okay."

Kris blinks at him as he leaves.

\---

Hannah calls him Saturday and says, "I have an address for you."

"Really?" Kris asks. "Whose?"

"Like you don't know," she snorts. "I can't believe you didn't tell me."

"I don't," Kris says honestly. "Would I be better with blue tennis shoes or black ones?"

"Pink," she answers promptly. "And it's Adam Lambert's house."

"That wasn't one of the options," Kris says absently. He's probably going to end up with the blue ones. Also, "Wait, really?"

"Yeah," she says. "I thought you were just doing the sex thing, you've never gone outside your room before."

"Uh," Kris says. "I guess he's changed his mind?"

"Obviously," she says. "Anyway, I'm forwarding you the email. Then I'm telling Megan."

"You're a nosy bitch," Kris says, but only after she's hung up the phone.

He's vaguely nervous all week, but before he has Adam he has an anthropology exam and Francis, so when he's not busy studying he's busy trying to figure out what the hell is up.

Kris can handle mood swings. He's used to them, they're normal. He's even used to doors being held open, chairs being pulled out, gifts handed over in deceptively plain wrapping. He is not, however, used to all of this from Francis, all in one evening, before Kris has gotten him laid. Frankly, it's fucking scary. He spends the whole night waiting for the other shoe to drop, and he's seriously considering calling Francis' therapist when he tries to crawl into Francis' lap and gets gently rebuked. Even when Francis isn't in the mood he doesn't do anything _gently_.

Kris gets dropped off a little before eleven. Francis walks him to his door, and he kisses him goodnight, slow and thorough and completely hands-above-the-waist, and he waits for Kris to get inside before he leaves.

Cale's standing by the door, unashamedly spying on them, and he says, "That's all the guy gets? I thought an escort was a sure thing."

"What?" Kris says.

"That kiss. Guys get more action in eighties movies," Cale says. "He got a kiss at the front door like you're a virgin on her first date. Or a frigid bitch," he finished, more speculative.

"Shit," Kris says.

"I feel like that's all you say to me anymore," Cale says.

\---

He doesn't really have time to deal with the discovery that Francis is trying to date him, because he's got Adam the next day. It doesn't even take his mind off it – now he's just got two things to be nervous about instead of one.

There's no trouble getting to Adam's house though. The email's got all the gate codes – one for the neighborhood, two for the house, and there are no security guards or dogs to give Kris a hard time. He's there a little too early, but he's not going to circle the neighborhood or park and wait – there's security driving around, and they'd probably arrest him for loitering or something equally embarrassing.

The doorbell rings in one of those complicated tones that sound like half of a Mozart composition or something, and the house is this huge Greek monstrosity, and there are honest, real life _hedges_ lining the driveway. Kris cannot believe Adam lives here.

He must look a little too dubious because as soon as Adam opens the door he says, "Not a word about the house. I'm waiting for a penthouse to open up in one of the high-security condos in downtown LA or something, I think."

"You don’t know?" Kris asks. "Shouldn't you?"

"My manager," Adam says, shrugging. He grabs Kris' shoulder and angles him inside. "I'd be happy in a penthouse anywhere, like a normal person."

"How many people does this house have to take care of the grounds?" Kris asks.

"Four, I think," Adam frowns. "Why?"

"Nothing," Kris says, shaking his head. Adam completely misses his snort, which is good. It may not have been one of the explicit rules, but it's still probably not a great idea to mock the client.

"So I was going to cook, but I never cook, so I ordered pizza because everyone likes pizza. I don't know if you're even hungry, since it's ten, but you're a college student, so you guys eat at weird times, right?"

Kris says, "I don't like pizza," because he literally cannot resist it. Adam looks upset but Kris laughs. "Nice try."

"Well, you're trying to be cruel," Adam says. "Now, food?"

Kris shrugs, but he practically eats a whole one himself and by the time he's done Adam's got his head propped on his hand and is watching him with a disgusted expression.

"What?" Kris says. He got over being self-conscious about people watching him eat years ago, after that one woman who just wanted to feed him.

"I'm waiting for you to throw up," Adam says seriously.

Kris asks, "Is that what you're into?'

Adam looks horrified and faintly ill. "You do that?"

"I can't share what I do," Kris says, gut reaction, but he feels really guilty now. "But no. I was teasing, mostly."

"And testing," Adam says, smiling again. "Are you done inhaling your own weight in carbs?"

"Yes," Kris says, licking his fingers. "Lead the way."

Adam's bedroom is as impersonal as the rest of the house. Kris has to ask, "How long have you lived here?"

"Is it that obvious?" Adam asks wryly. "A couple of months, but since I'm moving soon—"

"Yeah," Kris says. "If it's that big a deal why don't you buy someone out or something?"

He was joking, but Adam says, "That's what _I_ suggested, but my PR team threw a fit."

"I don't know why," Kris says. "Do you mind if I—" except Adam's already stripping down and grabbing flannel pajama bottoms, so Kris shrugs and exchanges his own jeans for sweats from his backpack.

Adam crawls into bed, grabbing a remote because of course he's got a remote to control his lights and the fan and probably the AC and the humidity in the air or something. Kris curls up facing him, and it's conditioned or something now, because as soon as Adam's breathing slows down, before his eyes even close, Kris is yawning and staring at the ceiling and saying, "Yeah, you've definitely got to move," and talking until they're both asleep.

Kris wakes up to an unholy amount of light coming from the windows. Adam's not there, _of course_ , so Kris changes back into jeans and carries his shoes into the kitchen with his backpack. Adam says, "Oh, hello, aren't the windows in there disgusting?"

"Yes," Kris says. "Thanks for that."

Adam smiles. "You need to be anywhere?"

Kris doesn't. He doesn't have class until noon and nobody's expecting him anywhere. He really wants to sit at the island across from Adam and eat breakfast. "Yeah," he says, "I've got to run."

"Okay," Adam says slowly, looking a little confused. He gets up to walk Kris out, though. At the door he touches Kris' elbow, asks, "Are you free this Tuesday?"  
 Kris ducks his head, trying not to smile too obviously. "If you want me."

"Yeah," Adam says, blowing out a breath. "That'd be great. Any way I can get you every week?" He sounds pretty hesitant

"Yes," Kris says. "I'll have Hannah set it up." He manages to hold off grinning until he gets in his car, and then he calls the desk as soon as he's pulled out of the driveway.

"Hello, this is Skyline Services, how can I help you?" Hannah says.

"You've still got all the Tuesdays marked out, right?" Kris says.

"Yes," Hannah says. "Like I said, favorites."

"No, not favorites," Kris says, rolling his eyes. "He requested it."

"Aw," Megan says. "It's like you're going steady now."

"What the fuck, do you have me on speakerphone?" Kris says.

"Of course she does," Megan says. Hannah sounds like she might be trying to apologize, but Megan's hand is over her mouth or something.

"What if someone walks in?" Kris asks. "No, nevermind."

"So, Kristopher, I feel like I haven't spoken to you in _forever_ ," Megan purrs. "Tell me what's new?"

And she's teasing, and Kris is maybe a little sick of it, so he says, "I think Francis thinks he's in love with me."

Megan's completely silent, and then Hannah says, "I'll tell Anna," all helpful.

"No, shut up," Megan says. "What, Kris?"

"He's dating me," Kris says. "But, for real."

"That's helpful," Megan says. "What is he _doing_?"

"He's _dating_ me," Kris repeats. "No sex, dropping me at my door, _dating_."

"And here we thought he had no heart," Megan says.

"I'm serious," Kris says. And he is, actually, now that he has enough time to worry about it. "I'm seeing him again this Friday, what the hell am I supposed to do with him?"

"Anna—" Hannah starts, but Megan talks over her.

"Fuck that," she says bluntly. "Wait it out and see if he gets over it. If not you can talk to him or drop him."

"But—" Hannah starts again.

"Anna will say the exact same thing," Megan points out. "Or she'll tell you to drop him immediately. If you keep him on you get paid more, and what's the downside to not having to fuck him for a while?"

"You're very pragmatic," Kris tells her.

"I'm choosing to take that as a compliment," Megan says dryly. "Have fun at class." Before she hangs up the phone though, Kris hears her say, "Seriously, Hannah, shut _up_ —" and he shakes his head. He really doesn't understand how the two of them are friends.

\---

The next couple weeks pass fairly uneventfully. He has Miss Giamatti twice more, on Saturday both times, and Adam every Tuesday and Francis every Friday. Francis would normally resent having to give Kris back by noon on Saturday, but he's still preoccupied with being the perfect gentleman and hasn't asked him to stay over once. Then, surprisingly, the hardcore guy that Kris took for Yvonne asks for him back on a Thursday. Apparently it wasn't as bad for him as Kris thought. He declines, though, tells Hannah he's too busy.

And he really is, is the thing. He normally only does two to three nights a week anyway, but he's got Francis and Adam two of the nights and his other regulars are starting to be neglected. He phases them over to other escorts with promises that it'll only be temporary.

The third Friday Francis finally makes his move. They're walking out of an opera and Kris is trying his hardest not to yawn and ruin the illusion. Francis has his hand on Kris' back, guiding him, and Kris turns to him to say something when Francis kisses him.

Kris hums, kissing back, and they stay pressed close together on the corner of Elm and 5th. Francis pulls back, finally, and says, "I'd like to take you home tonight."

"Anything you want," Kris says.

And Kris does go home with him, but the next morning Kris has to leave at eleven to make it to the house to meet Miss Giamatti so they can attend an art gallery opening, and Francis doesn't want to let him leave.

Kris tries to laugh it off when Francis brings it up. "Of course I have to leave. I've got errands to run, I'm meeting with friends later today."

"You don't have to go," Francis repeats.

Kris says, "I really do," but he even means it a little when he adds, "I'm sorry."

"All clients pay the same rate, don't they?" Francis continues stubbornly. "My fees are as much as your other appointment would afford you."

"That's not the point," Kris says weakly. "I'm already busy."

"I want to book your Saturdays from now on, then," Francis says. "A second regular night."

"We don't do that," Kris protests. "One night a week is the only guarantee I can give you."

Francis looks like he's gearing up to go after him again, so Kris apologizes profusely and runs the fuck away. He can't handle his workload anymore as it is. He mentions it to Hannah and she starts moving his clients permanently. He'll miss some of them, he realizes, while he watches Hannah remove his name from their profiles.

It isn't enough to make him say no, though, when Adam asks for Sunday nights three weeks later. He tells Hannah and she smirks at him until he threatens her with no Christmas present.

Kris is the first to admit that he's not the most observant person, even though he should be, so when Francis spends all night touching his arm and kissing his neck and ears Kris doesn't catch anything going on. Then they pull up in front of Francis' house instead of Kris' apartment and Kris says, "Oh." He'd maybe been expecting another couple of weeks in between, like last time.

Francis ignores him, climbing out. Kris shrugs, going after him, figuring he at least knows the extent of Francis' patience now. Kris says, "Finally ready to stop playing with me?"

Francis doesn't like to be teased, and he grabs Kris, pushing him into the house. "I thought I'd wait for you to come to me. But you'll be gone for a week," and his voice edges dangerously low.

"A boy's got to go home for Thanksgiving," Kris points out, and Francis gets him into the bedroom.

\---

Unsurprisingly, Adam takes the news of Kris' trip home better than Francis. All he says, sounding genuinely interested, is, "Does this mean you'll eat too much pie and come back fat?"  
 Kris really likes Adam.

His flight leaves Tuesday night, but he's got Monday off so he hangs around and remembers he has actual friends that he doesn't pretend to like and fuck once or twice a week. Cale says, "Weird, isn't it?"

Megan comes along Monday night, which is awesome because Kris will never get tired of watching Cale make an idiot of himself trying to impress her. She likes him enough and she'd probably let him land her anyway, but somewhere along the way she decided miserable looked cute on him.

"You're cruel," one of the fringe girls says.

Megan says, "I'll fuck him for Christmas," and gets half the guys at the table to look at her in a new light.

He's late coming back from break so he ends up canceling Adam's Tuesday. He hates it, not least because it means he starts right back up again with Francis, who texts him to ask him, politely, to meet him at his house first. Kris knows what this means.

He's already pulling off his shirt in the hallway when Francis says, "On the bed."

Before he starts in on him, though, Francis says, "I want you all weekend. Here."

"I can't," Kris says, tensing. He knows Francis can see it.

"Why?" Francis asks, petulant and dangerous.

"I have other arrangements," Kris says shortly.

"You always have other arrangements," Francis says, voice edging up into a whine, and Kris likes him, he honestly does, but not this much.

"Every Sunday, a regular," he says shortly. "But you have me _now_ ," and Francis takes the hint.

Kris pays for it, though. He can deal with the bruises and there's never any blood to worry about, and he knows the tricks with heating pads and making Cale sit next to him and talk about the hot girl in his Expo class for distraction. So he can deal, but he's never seen himself afterwards, really, and maybe he should have, because Adam opens the door for him Sunday and says, "What the fuck?"

"Sorry?" Kris asks blankly.

Adam says, "Nothing. Food's in the kitchen."

It's not pizza, thank god – Cale's been on an Italian kick, and Kris is sick of pasta and pizza and sorbets that are little more than nasty half-melted ice creams. The chicken actually smells pretty good, but Kris is still too tired to do much but pick at it. Adam stares at him the whole time, and after ten minutes he grabs Kris' plate and says, "You look like you could use more sleep than me, get moving."

Kris lets himself be shoved down the hall, but he waits until Adam's digging through the dresser before he attempts to change clothes. He's not fast enough, predictably, and Adam says flatly, "Nice."

"It's fine," Kris says, finishing pulling his shirt down. His skin is hardly pulling at all anymore.

"Really?" Adam asks honestly. "I was always told you should avoid maiming the people you fuck."

"Some people like to be maimed," Kris says shortly, sitting on the bed, "And it's my _job_."

Not the best reminder. Adam narrows his eyes and says, "And some people like to do the maiming. Does Francis?"

Kris winces. He doesn't mean to, but shit, he forgot about the two of them because it's been _months_.

"Right," Adam says. "You should lay down now."

Kris does, and he's not going to talk Adam to sleep even though that's what Adam likes because he's feeling petulant, okay, but he can't help but ask, "What is with the two of you?"

He watches Adam's profile scrunch up in distaste, and when Adam rolls over to look at him they're uncomfortably close. Kris almost feels like he's being judged. He can't move away, though – there's no way he'd be able to sleep on his back right now, and burying his face in the pillow would feel to much like hiding. Instead he holds Adam's stare until Adam blinks and asks, "What did he tell you?"

"Not much," Kris says. "Just that you were the most difficult person he'd ever worked with."

Adam snorts. " _I'm_ difficult."

"What happened?" Kris asks again.

Adam sighs. "He was supposed to produce most of the songs on my last album. Turns out our styles of working don't mesh well."

"That's it?" Kris asks. He feels a little cheated. "All that hatred because of creative differences?"

"Hey," Adam says. "Creative differences can be the worst ones, sometimes. And no, actually, that was just where it started."

"Is this going to be an epic tale of strife and anger?" Kris asks seriously.

Snorting, Adam pinches his arm lightly. "Don't laugh. It was just that we kept running into each other, and he said shit about me in his liner and production notes and I said shit about him to interviewers and everything just sort of escalated. We had to attend the same awards ceremony a couple months ago and I ended up spilling vodka all over his suit. It was an accident, I swear!"

"It all sounds really immature," Kris says.

"Yeah," Adam says contentedly. "Oh, well. And now there's you to fight over, so things are really escalating."

"They better not," Kris informs him. "Seriously, that would suck for me."

"Alright," Adam says, sounding put upon. "Now would you go to sleep?"

\---

"Why do you do it?" Adam asks curiously the next morning. He's sprawled out, staring as Kris gets his clothes in order. Kris isn't in any hurry, he's got hours before his first class, and the only reason he's getting ready at all is because he really wanted to just roll over and go back to sleep, never mind the way Adam was watching him when he woke up.

Leaving seems to be the best course of action, too, because you always want to avoid the career questions from the clients. "Do you want me to stay for breakfast?" he offers instead.

"Yes," Adam says. "And while we eat you can explain."

Kris sighs, but Adam has the most amazing bagels in LA and he won't spill where he gets them, and Kris is really kind of easy after all.

"Come on," Adam says after Kris has rearranged his bagel and orange on his plate five times and won't look across the counter. "You're crap at deflecting."

"Look, I know you think you want to know, but it really doesn't—" he starts, but Adam snorts irreverently.

"No, you fuck people because it's good money, right? Good reason. There are worse things. Why do you put up with the kinky stuff? Those aren't padded handcuff bruises," Adam bites into his own bagel, acting supremely unconcerned.

Kris rubs his wrists self-consciously, and they're fading but still spark just right when he digs his fingers in. He opens his mouth and says, "Actually. Um."

Adam looks at him, and then Adam _looks_ at him, sitting up straight and leaning closer and bright eyes and all. Kris says, "Shit, forgot about my class, I've got to go!" and hightails his ass out of there.

\---

Kris probably should have predicted it, but Adam calls Hannah the next week to see if he can have Kris for a third night. Kris would have turned him down anyway, but when he has to find out from Hannah instead of directly from Adam he's pissed. And he feels pretty justified, since Megan and Hannah are also offended on his behalf. He tells Hannah to ignore Adam's message for a while, though, since letting them loose would probably mean Adam getting an earful and one of them getting fired.

Tuesday sees Kris on the front walk saying, "What the fuck is your deal?"

The delivery loses him some maturity and professionalism points, but the way Adam blinks and steps backward in shock probably means he's made them up in style. He continues, "You want to know everything about what I do, and then you decide to try to get a third night without even fucking talking to me?"

"Wow, you're pissed," Adam says, looking disproportionately thrilled.

Kris deflates, because he really does suck at being angry with people. "And confused," and now he's sounding plaintive. "Seriously, what do you want?"

"A third night?" Adam says. "Why is that such a problem? And would you come in, we're making a scene for the neighbors."

"You don't have neighbors," Kris says. "Also, I told you I only work three nights a week."

"No, you didn't," Adam says, and Kris would believe him except Adam's always surprised when Kris tells him something new, like it's an unexpected gift.

"Yes, I did," Kris says, but Adam just blinks at him. "Fine, whatever."

They eat, because Kris is not above taking advantage of Adam's special-delivery food even when he's pissed. After, while Adam is putting the dishes in the dishwasher, he says, "If I did know, I might have done it to see if you wanted an excuse to get away from Francis."

"Oh," Kris says. "That's dumb."

Adam looks offended, but only mildly, so Kris figures they're even.

Except when they're lying in his bed Adam says, "This must seem so weird to you." He's staring at the ceiling, not watching Kris like he normally does, and Kris sighs.

"We're therapists in a lot of ways," Kris says softly. "Your issues are not the worst I've dealt with."

Adam looks at him, unsure of what to say, and Kris settles in next to him, petting his face.

"It's insomnia," Adam says finally, just when Kris thinks he's asleep. "My therapist thinks I should force myself into a regular sleep pattern."

"And I help?" Kris asks.

"Well," Adam says, "I figured if I was paying someone to sleep next to me then I had five hundred dollars an hour as an incentive to get over it."

"Practical," Kris says. "If stupid."

"That's what my therapist said," Adam says, "except it actually does work."

"Monetary blackmail? That _is_ weird."

Kris moves his hand when Adam laughs, but Adam grabs it back. "No, I think watching someone sleep does."

"Oh," Kris says. "Does this mean you wake up at night and stare at me?"

"Yes," Adam says. "Does that creep you out?"

"No," Kris says automatically, then thinks about it. "A little. I'd like it better if you woke me up when you can't sleep."

Adam snorts. "Yeah, because we really need two people to be miserable with this."

He hasn't said he won't, though, so Kris figures he can wait and see. If he doesn't get woken up he'll yell in the morning. But now that Kris is thinking about it, now that he knows there's a reason beyond loneliness or general eccentricity, he has to ask, "Would having me three nights a week help?"

"Kris," Adam says, "I would buy your ass _every_ night if you let me."

There's not much Kris can say to that, but he finds a third night. Thursday is really all he can afford – Monday evenings are his designated homework night and Saturday he dedicates to Cale, who actually seems like he's worried about Kris working too much. Hannah and Megan look at him oddly when he puts Thursday in the computer, but Kris doesn't owe them an explanation. They helped start all this, anyway.

When he gets his schedule ironed out he logs into the system, programs Adam's number into his cell. Around nine he locks himself in his bedroom, sucks it up, and calls.

Adam sounds cautious. "Hello?"

"Hi," Kris says, and then can't think of anything at all to say.

"See, I had a good feeling. I'm never supposed to answer numbers I don't know, especially if they're blocked like yours, something about security or whatever, but my phone rang and I thought it would be a good idea to pick it up."

"Good for you?" Kris says, because what else do you say to something like that? "Anyway, um…"

"Yeah?" Adam says. "By the way, I think it's not fair you have my number and I don't have yours."

Kris smiles at his wall stupidly. "I'll text it to you."

"Awesome." It sounds like he's eating something crunchy. "What do you need? Are you calling to cancel Sunday?"

"No, um, actually," Kris pauses, decides he's tired of being a pussy, and spits it out. "I have free time on Thursday, if you want me that night."

Adam's quiet, and Kris counts to five before he starts, "It was just an offer, I—"

"No," Adam says, "Thursday's great."

"Right, okay," Kris says. "Um, I'll text you? So you have my number. You can – call, whatever."

"Alright," Adam says, still talking slowly. "See you Thursday."

Except Kris had completely fucking forgot that exam Thursday night at seven, so he's half an hour late getting to Adam's house. Adam yells for him to come in when he rings the bell, so he drops his bag in the hall, peering around as he toes off his shoes. Adam's not in the kitchen.

"Hey," he says, wandering into the bedroom and finding Adam sitting in the chair by the window. "Sorry I'm late, my ethics test nearly killed me. I'm not a fan of senseless violence, but there are some professors that just deserve to be shot," and he's joking, really, but Adam's smile slides off his face as he watches Kris.

Kris says, "I wasn't serious?" just to make sure he got that, and Adam says, "I want to fuck you."

And this is the part of the script where Kris is supposed to smile and nod and walk or saunter or fucking crawl, if the client wants it, right over to his lap where he's sprawled out in that armchair and straddle him and ask _how do you want me_? It's the part where he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the condoms he keeps there, safely within reach at all times. It's also the part where he learns what gets the client off, starts keeping notes in the back of his mind for _next time, next time_. Mostly, it's the part where he remembers this is his fucking job, not his friend, and he makes sure the client gets the best fuck five-fifty an hour can buy.

But really, it turns out this is the part where Kris blinks in surprise, stares at Adam and doesn't move for a second too long. This is the part where Adam tilts his head at him and leans back in his chair, gesturing at Kris with two fingers. And this is the part where Kris goes.

His socks make his footsteps silent, and Kris doesn't crawl into his lap, doesn't have a chance. Adam holds his hand up, places it in the middle of Kris' chest to keep him back, a few inches but enough. He says, "Kiss me."

Kris does, of course, presses his mouth against Adam's and licks when he's supposed to lick, nips and nuzzles and breathes softly to warm things up, make them intimate. Adam laughs at him and curls his hand into Kris' shirt, pulling him forward. Kris stumbles and their teeth click together, and Adam kisses how Kris was taught he shouldn't – selfish, sharp bites and unpredictable tongue and grabbing Kris' chin to move him exactly where he wants, like he's not even a person but a _thing_. Kris has to grab the arms of the chair to keep from overbalancing, from dropping like deadweight to the floor with his knees completely gone out, and Adam grabs the back of his thighs and hauls him up into the chair.

There's plenty of room for him, but he didn't put himself there and his legs are all tangled up. It's uncomfortable and he'll fall if Adam lets go and there's probably no way he could get down without help either. He loses all of his breath in a rush, shock, and it should break the kiss but Adam breathes it in and now Kris has no excuse to try to pull away, no reason to do anything but try not to moan when Adam bites his lip and licks across the roof of his mouth.

Kris doesn't blink his eyes open quickly enough to see the thought form but Adam's hands drop from his hips and Kris sucks in air loudly, throwing his hands up to cling to Adam's shoulders as his stomach drops with the sickening sense of falling. Adam grabs his wrists, anchoring him, and Kris stares at him, breathing hard as Adam forces him to sit back. He ends up settled on Adam's thighs, not falling to the floor, and Kris swallows hard, burning with embarrassment and a little bit of anger. Adam's mouth is half turned up, and it could be a smirk or a sneer or a half-formed smile.

"Are you okay?" he asks, voice neutral, and Kris swallows too loudly. He's still almost panting.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Kris answers, not what he's supposed to say, and Adam says, "Good. Get your clothes off."

It's awkward, but at least Kris knows what comes now. He's climbed off uncomfortably, like he's too inexperienced at this to do it easily, and now Adam will leave his clothes on, high on the implications of being fully clothed while he fucks a younger, stripped boy. Except Adam stands up, too, and helps Kris with his clothes, slow and easy, and then Kris can't really do anything but help him in return, zippers undone and laces unwound. He kisses Kris again when they're naked, gentle, and then pulls them back into the chair. Kris hovers over him, undecided, he has condoms and lube in his backpack but not on him, he wasn't _expecting_ this, but Adam brushes their noses together and presses a bottle and foil packet into his hand.

Kris breathes out shakily and sets the condom on the arm of the chair, sneaking a look at Adam while he flips back the top on the lube. He figured Adam would want to do this, he'd seemed pretty hands-on so far, but he's got his head leaned lazily back and is watching Kris, unblinking. Kris gets enough on his fingers to get himself wet, practice making it easy to slide two in, then a third. He doesn't even slip when he's tearing open the condom, rolling it on, and it's easy at that point to lower himself down, take Adam in like they've done this dozens of times before.

He's supposed to be doing a better job of acting than this, he knows. He's not making any encouraging noises, and it feels clumsy, trying to move his hips with Adam still just fucking watching him, like he's an exhibition and in no way relatable to Adam. He curls his fingers tighter into Adam's shoulders anyway, but Adam says, "Right, I thought so. This isn't going to work."

Kris is offended, okay, he's got a right, but then he's mostly just completely surprised as Adam pushes him back, hauls him three feet over to toss him on the side of the bed and slap his thigh and tell him, "On your knees. Shoulders and head on the pillows."

Kris goes, of course, but he has to ask, "What—"

"Shh," Adam says, focused, and even with his head craned all the way to the side Kris can't really see anything, just the long lines of Adam's side and the hand that's holding the bottle of lube. Adam slides two fingers into him to start, but he takes them back out and slides three in and then two again. Kris would say he doesn't have to, would say _please, more_ , would say anything Adam wants to hear, but Kris knows everything he could say and isn't sure what he should. Adam spreads his fingers apart, opening Kris up, and Kris has had people rim him before but usually they use their thumbs, better grip, and they don't—

Kris jumps, squirming, and makes an inadvertent noise when Adam presses the bottle of lube against him, squeezes it so lube slides down Adam's fingers and into him, wet and cold and— "What?" Kris says again, helplessly.

"You'll be thankful," Adam says lightly, sounding almost friendly again while he leans down and kisses Kris' hip, and Kris tries, "Oh, that sounds ominous—" to see if that gets him back to solid footing, but Adam says, "Hush," more firmly, and Kris does.

Adam's fingers trail down his back and then he's sliding in, no friction, just a smooth, easy opening that still makes Kris moan a little. He loves this part. He wiggles a little, encouraging, and Adam puts a hand on his back and says, "That works, huh?

Kris doesn't know what he's asking, but then he's pulling out again and Kris groans in frustration before he can stop himself. Adam laughs softly. "That definitely works," he says more loudly, like he's actually talking to Kris, but then he pushes back in so Kris doesn't try to talk back. Kris can't help but shudder again, Adam's just big enough that the stretch is uncomfortable and grabs his attention, makes him firmly _aware_ like he usually isn't.

Then Adam pulls out, _again_ , and pushes back in, _again_ , and this time Kris actually moans, half honest-to-god desperation and half hopeful encouragement. Adam keeps doing it, though, whether Kris pants or makes the little noises he's trying to keep in, Adam keeps just sliding in to him and then pulling back out, playing with him in the worst way. He pets Kris while he does it, fingers and palms and gentle nails on his back and his hips and his thighs, and then he pulls out and presses two fingers in, easy easy _easy_ now, and pulls at Kris while he pushes back in, and Kris jerks and almost chokes on his own tongue and says, "Fuck—" a little brokenly, and then " _Shit_ ," because he's not supposed to be the one losing it here. But this time Adam stops teasing and pulls out his fingers and shoves the rest of the way in so hard Kris yelps and grabs fistfuls of the sheets just to ground himself.

He's horribly close though, feels himself shaking on the sheets and trying not to do more than moan while Adam has him folded up and is fucking him harder than Kris has had in years. Kris keeps trying to brace himself, keep his knees all the way under him, but Adam pushes his legs further apart and he can't even move, doesn't have enough leverage to push back or away or at all, really. Adam leans down to kiss his shoulder, most of his weight almost flattening Kris to the bed, and Kris whimpers a little. He's trying to pretend he's not on a hair trigger, but Adam uncurls a hand from his hips and grabs him, stroking too hard, and Kris cries out. Adam pulls out before he can come, and Kris makes a small questioning noise and whines, scrambling for him.

Adam murmurs something nonsensical at him and rolls him over on his side, snuggling in behind him. He doesn't push back in, just kisses along Kris' neck and counts his fingers up and down Kris' ribs. Kris gives him a minute or so and then reaches back clumsily, trying to roll over. He gets as far as a good grip on Adam's thigh before Adam slides fingers into him, like he's working him open still. Kris shivers at it and curls his fingers against Adam's leg, breath shaky. Adam keeps kissing him chastely, all across his back and neck and the side of his face. Kris turns his head to kiss properly but Adam ducks away.

He pushes a fourth finger in, sliding all the way up, and Kris whines and tries to squirm away. Adam's looking at him, watching his face, but Kris brings his arm up to hide his eyes.

"Next time," Adam tells him, terribly serious, "I'm going to make you watch."

Kris says, "Okay," because you're always supposed to agree, always, just play along, and he'd actually go along with anything right now.

Adam keeps fingering him, drawing in and out and nudging Kris' leg up when he doesn't give him enough room. Kris squirms a couple of times, hoping, but Adam kisses his shoulder and just puts his fingers back. Adam is still hard and Kris doesn't know how he can possibly be this patient, but he's half asleep and still completely hard when Adam reaches back over him, thumbing the head of his cock.

"Please," Kris says, and pushes back. "Please."

Laughing against his neck, Adam puts four back in, sliding all the way up past the knuckle. Kris tightens, he can't help it, and his breath stutters. Adam's stroking him easy now, winding him back up. Kris just needs his fingers to curl, his hands to move faster, his teeth on his throat, but Adam licks and pets him slow and takes all his fingers away. Kris wants to cry or do it himself, or maybe both.

Adam rubs fingers over him and combs through his hair and snuggles close in a cruel parody of comfort, and Kris twists against him half-heartedly, not fighting when Adam's hands hold him still.

"Ready?" Adam asks, and Kris groans. He's pretty sure the question was rhetorical anyway, since Adam kisses his shoulder again and then rolls him over.

"I don't think I bend like this," Kris says dazedly, and then folds up easy as that. "Huh."

Adam smiles down at him, mostly teeth, and pushes into him. Kris is open, okay, completely limp and whining for it, but he _aches_ , all over, stretched open and he needs to come so badly and he's pretty sure he can't feel his toes anymore, never mind move.

"Look," Adam says, wrapping a hand around the back of his head and tugging him up. He can see Adam sliding into him, but he can barely keep his eyes open.

He manages to say, "It's not next time."

Adam laughs, but he's breathless and he's kissing more desperately. "No. When I make you watch it'll be done the right way, with mirrors all over the room and you doing everything yourself."

Kris doesn't respond, just tries to avoid doing anything, _anything_ that will make Adam stop. His thighs are screaming at him, he's pretty sure his legs aren't supposed to go like this, but Adam grabs his cock again and he whimpers, can't say _please, please_ , and instead he says, "Adam, _Adam_ ," until Adam, his palm around him tight, doesn't stop, and lets Kris shake apart.

Adam's not done even when he is, and Kris blanks on most of it, twisting and groaning every time Adam moves too hard. He's pretty sure he's scratching too, but he doesn't think to unlock his fingers. Adam comes when Kris finally gives up trying to help and just flops back, tired and boneless. Kris watches him through blurry eyes, making a noise as close to a purr as he can approximate when Adam licks his throat one last time before pulling out and moving them around, cleaning up and fussing.

He's going to let Adam finish arranging them and then he's going to get up, clean himself off in the bathroom and get at least his underwear back on before he crawls into bed. He's not going to sleep, especially not for long, which of course means that the next time he wakes up it's two in the afternoon. Adam is watching crap daytime TV and eating in bed. Kris' head is in his lap and Adam is combing through his hair.

And, well.

There's something in his nerves that feels like they're actually _humming_ , and Kris hasn't felt that since the first time Francis rolled him over and tied him down and spanked him until he screamed, and Kris has no hope of stopping himself before he angles his head for better stroking. Adam looks down at him, smiles gentle and sweet and tender, and Kris groans as loudly as he can and says, "Fucking tops. Of course," except he's mostly joking. It'd be impossible to be irritated when he's so high he'd probably walk into walls if left on his own. Adam just snorts at him and keeps petting, and later he cuddles Kris in the shower and puts him into old flannel pajamas two sizes too big and deposits him at the island while he feeds him fattening foods, and celery to balance it out.

\---

The thing is, though, Adam's the best top Kris has ever had. And it's not like he tries to go around comparing, but he can't help it – in his line of work, he's come across a few. Adam makes Kris feel like it's completely effortless, knocks work right out of his head every time and then pieces him back together feeling like he's been made better for it all. It's never more than sex, even, Kris waits and each time thinks _this time, this time_ , this time Adam will tie him down, truss him up, arrange him open and openly submissive, but Adam just plays with his hands and his tongue and anything Kris' body can give him, and the sex is so phenomenal that Kris, for the first time, wants a client to ask for more, just so Kris can bring him floggers and plugs and pretty, pretty gags.

Francis notices it before Adam does, not that it's any wonder. He gets Kris the days after Adam, when Kris is still borderline desperate from the nights before, and Kris is practically jumping him. Francis isn't exactly a bad fuck, and even if he isn't who Kris wants he's much better at giving Kris _what_ he wants. Kris is careful of the bruises from the ties afterwards, makes sure they aren't too obvious and he doesn't press on them to try to keep them from healing. He's not sure Adam even realizes.

Francis realizes the one thing Adam uses more than enough of - his teeth. Kris doesn't have hickeys, he has bite marks, and Francis touches them, very softly, and says, "What the fuck have you been doing?"

Kris shivers and says, "Client got overzealous. They do that sometimes," but he presses his face against the bed to try to hide his smile.

"No," Francis says.

"What?" Kris asks, lifting his head. He meets Francis' eyes, but it's a painful angle. "What do you mean, no?"

"I mean no." Francis says calmly. "I'm not going to touch you when you've got someone else's marks all over you."

"Untie me," Kris says.

Francis does, hands sure and steady on the rope. Kris watches it move through his fingers and swallows.

When they can sit facing each other Kris says, "You know I have other clients," but it's more of a question than he means it to be.

"Of course," Francis says. "But I was under the impression that I was the only one you – play with."

"Oh," Kris says. He figures there's no reason to point out the obvious now. "You've left marks on me for the other clients to see. You've left worse ones."

"That's not the issue right now," Francis says stiffly, staring Kris down.

Kris sighs. "What is it, then?"

"I think it's unnecessary for you to have any other clients at all," Francis declares.

"I think I'd better go," Kris says.

He doesn't tell anyone. Megan and Hannah would tell him it's nothing to worry about, would make fun of Francis and brush it off. He should talk to Anna, really, but she's been having issues with one of the new guys and Kris knows what she'll tell him anyway.

"If they ever push your boundaries," she said, with an air of gravity approaching that of a cardinal sin, "you talk to them about it once and then you drop them."

But Francis has been pushing boundaries ever since the beginning and Kris has always let him get away with it. Anyone Kris talks to will tell him that it's enough, that this is well past Francis' strike three, but Kris can't do that. He can talk to him, though.

\---

Adam is out of town somewhere until Wednesday. He tells Kris on the phone, sounding faintly apologetic, and Kris is actually a little surprised when he doesn't get invited along – he's too used to Francis. Kris does go over to see Adam on Thursday, but he's nervous about seeing Francis the next day. Adam notices, but he doesn't ask. Instead he feeds Kris some sort of Asian salad and then puts them on the couch, kissing slow and patient. Kris is moving too much; he's tapping his fingers on Adam's shoulders and ribs, he's kicked Adam twice while trying to swing his legs.

All Adam says is, "Kris," but Kris squeezes his eyes shut and makes a face.

"Sorry," he says. "I'm not going to be much good for this tonight."

"What would you suggest?" Adam asks. "We could sleep, but," and he taps the back of Kris' hand, which is running up and down the arm of the couch a little too frantically.   
"Yeah, I'm sorry," Kris repeats uselessly.

Adam watches him for a minute, during which Kris focuses on keeping his hands still and instead kicks his heels against the couch. "Come on," Adam says finally, quirking half of his mouth up. "We'll tie you up."

"Um," Kris says. "Okay?" But he follows, of course he does.

"At least it'll fix the kicking," Adam says pragmatically.

Kris laughs a little, and that unwinds him enough that he can lie down on the bed instead of pacing at the edge of it.

"Unless you want to talk?" Adam offers, calling back over his shoulder while he ducks into his closet.

Staring up at the ceiling, Kris _wants_ this. He's wanted this since they started, and more specifically, right now he wants Adam to come out and help him shut himself off. But – he doesn't want to see Francis tomorrow and try to talk about his jealousy issues with bruises on his wrists already. And even if he doesn't think about him tonight, Kris will still always _know_ that the first time he managed to get Adam to really play was because Francis fucked with Kris' head.

Adam comes out with cuffs, and they're beautiful, dark and supple, and Kris says, "Wait."

"Yes?" Adam sighs, but he looks amused more than anything.

"I can't," Kris says guiltily.

"Oh?" Adam asks lightly. He slips one of them over Kris' hand, sliding the buckle into place.

Kris stares down at it wistfully. "No," he says miserably. "I thought I could. I’m sorry."

Adam laughs quietly. "I know." He shrugs when Kris blinks at him. "I couldn't do anything with you like this. You'd probably hurt yourself."

"Then why'd you offer?" Kris asks. He may sound petulant, but it's probably nowhere close to how he _feels_. Fucking Adam.

"I figure if I'm not getting laid you should be frustrated, too," Adam says, very equitable.

"You're an ass," Kris informs him helpfully.

Adam snorts a little. "So I've been told."

Kris sighs, looping his finger through the ring on the cuff and tugging a little. Adam watches him for a minute and says, "Come on. I'm supposed to try to sleep, at least. You can stare off into space in the dark just as well."

"Okay," Kris says despondently. He can, really, and he does until Adam asks him pointed questions to get him talking. Then he goes on about irritating people who need conversation like a sleep track, but maybe he could just record himself talking, and Adam says something about liking variety and how this way he’s got the option of interactivity. Except Kris has already gotten started on the actual sleep CDs they sell, and how he always thought they were creepy, that his mom just played them Disney soundtracks when they were little and wouldn't sleep, and then he complains about how all the recent Disney movies have _sucked_ , what are kids born nowadays supposed to listen and sing along to, and when he finally stops Adam is on his side facing him but his eyes are closed and he's breathing so softly Kris has to move his head closer just to hear it.

It's tempting, and he knows better than to air his dirty laundry, but that horrible vaulted ceiling seems almost better than a confessional now, and he says, "I have to see Francis tomorrow."

That's the easy part, and he stalls for a while. He looks over, but Adam hasn't moved.

"The thing is," Kris says, and it actually feels dangerous, saying it out loud, as if it'll make it any truer just because Kris is willing to admit it, "I think Francis is in love with me." He takes a deep breath and pauses, lets it out more slowly. "Or he thinks he is. And the two are sort of the same thing, when it comes down to it."

Kris stops to consider this. He supposes it is, really – Francis will act the same regardless, and he'll be hurt even if he gets over it more quickly when he finds out it's just a passing obsession. And it is has to be, because Francis can't love anyone.

"He wants me to drop everyone but him," Kris says, "And I don't think I could do that."

"I'd never forgive you," Adam says.

Kris startles, flailing, and Adam catches him, pressing him into the bed.

"You were _asleep_ ," Kris says accusingly.

"I was faking," Adam says shamelessly. "And I mean it. If you're going to belong to just one person is should be me."

"Fuck off," Kris says, affectionate. He shoves at Adam's shoulders. "You're supposed to be sleeping."

Adam lies back down obligingly but he's still watching Kris carefully.

"I didn't say I was considering it," Kris says. "I wouldn't."

"So what's the problem? Tell him no, move on," Adam says, bored and mildly irritated.

Kris looks at him. "I know you don't like him, but I do, kind of. And I definitely feel sorry for him." Adam snorts and Kris says, "Really. He's alone. And yeah, he's got issues, but he can be sweet."

"And you're not biased," Adam says shortly.

Kris flushes. "I have sex for a _living_. It takes more than fucking to get me to like you," he snaps.

Adam laughs and Kris rolls over stubbornly.

"It's not just Francis, you know," Adam tells him several minutes later, quiet like he's not sure Kris is listening. "I wouldn't be happy letting anyone have you either."

\---

He and Francis make small talk for half an hour when Kris first shows up, getting offered coffee and drinks and complaining about the weather. It's awkward, not least because Francis has always sucked at this.

"I need to know that you understand that I’m keeping my other clients," Kris says. Francis doesn't have to like it, but he does have to—

"Absolutely not," he says. "I am willing to have you at any rate you wish, but I will not share you."

"You can't _own_ me, Francis," Kris says, fed up. "You buy my time, you can own my time, but you can't own me."

"And why not?" Francis asks.

Kris freezes. "Do you understand what you're asking?"

"Do you?" Francis counters. "I'm offering to buy all of your available time, for whatever payment you desire, subject to renegotiation of my terms, of course. I would want more than sex and your free time."

"You're asking me to be your _rentboy_ ," Kris says thinly. "Not just your prostitute."

"Well," Francis says, and he smiles humorlessly. "I'd ask you to be my boyfriend, but we both know what the answer to that would be."

Kris has known Francis a long time. He knows his moods, his past, his favorite people and music and food. He knows there's nobody close to Francis, and he knew all along that he was the one person Francis still trusted enough to occasionally treat like a real human being. He also knew Francis was dating him, not just fucking him, and he knows that this is his fault.

He plays his role, because he's only an escort, working to pay his way through college, and he's barely twenty-one and his family doesn't even know what he does for a living. His part is not as a rentboy, the pretty young thing who hangs around the house all day and plays hostess at dinners and lays down at night to do whatever Francis tells him.

This, instead, is his part: he tells Francis, slowly and haltingly and hating every syllable, that he's misunderstood the boundaries of their relationship. Kris tells him that he's is paid to be his boyfriend but he's still not that boy, and that he can't play pretend for the rest of his life. And he assures Francis, with every last horrible, honest sentiment, that he could no more be his rentboy than his boyfriend, and all the while he swallows how sorry he is: sorry that he's saying these things and running away, that he led Francis on because he didn't know what it could hurt, and that he did, does, all of it in spite of knowing that he's the only person alive right now that Francis gave the power to hurt him, and Kris is shoving that right back in his face.

Afterwards he goes quietly and unimpeded out to his car, leaving Francis behind in the dark living room of his twenty million dollar house, and the whole way home tries to keep from vomiting those words back up.

\---

Kris is pretty sure he can't do this anymore. It feels like he's playing with people's emotions.

"This is a little sudden," Anna says when he comes to tell her he's quitting, sitting forward and crossing her legs. She's older than the girls here, heavier with age, but still gorgeous. She's a first-generation Eastern European immigrant, though there's no trace of it to look at her. Years in their business smoothed out her accent and taught her Californian mannerisms. Kris used to look at her and wonder what traits he might pick up. For all that Anna is his mentor, helped make him who he is, Kris doesn't see her much anymore. He did while she was training Megan and him, years ago, but she's got younger recruits now and he's got control of things. Or had. "Do you want to tell me what's happened?"

"Francis wanted to buy me permanently," Kris says.

"Ah," Anna says delicately. "And there were no signs, before?"

Kris squirms a little. "Well."

She sighs. "And you ignored them?"

"I thought he'd get over it!" Kris says defensively. He knows Anna's not going to get angry with him, but it's like having your mother disappointed in you. "It's _Francis_."

"Really?" Anna says. "From that comment I'll assume you talked to Megan and Hannah, at least."

"Yes," Kris says, flushing. He knows better, normally, and Anna's been yelling at Megan for being insensitive for years. "But it doesn't matter now. I can't see him again. I can't do any of this again."

"So you're dropping all of your clients?" Anna asks. "Are you sure?"

Kris thinks wistfully of Adam. "I have to."

"Maybe," she pauses, considering her words. "Maybe you should consider that this is something you will recover from. Perhaps quitting altogether is not the best idea."

"So, what?" Kris asks. "I take a break for a couple months? I'm graduating in six months, I would've been done anyway."

She looks at him, and Kris realizes abruptly that she doesn't believe him.

"I _would_ have," Kris insists.

"You have to understand, Kris," she says, "This life gets under people's skin. You've done it, and you can't ever go back. You'll always remember the years when you did this. It will affect every future relationship you have. It's not something an escort leaves behind easily."

Kris doesn't say she left it pretty easily, but only because that would be immature. "I am," he says instead, simply.

"Let me talk you into taking a break, then," she suggests, and holds up a hand when he objects. "I'm not trying to manipulate you into staying. I'm suggesting that if you still feel this way when you come back after Christmas that we put you on hold for a while. There's no reason not to keep it as a backup plan."

She's right, of course, because mother always knows best, but he comes back a couple days after Christmas and being home only made him more certain he was right: he needs to get back to a normal life. Anna tells him he can come in on New Year's Eve and sign some things.

There's not that much paperwork when you're just going on a sabbatical or extended vacation or whatever the tax forms classify it as. Kris signs once and initials twice, and Anna gives him a hug, and he grabs his backpack and hands the keys to the house back to her.

"Keep them," she says, smiling. "Now go enjoy your evening."

Kris sits at the bus stop, flipping his phone over and over in his hands. He should call Adam, he knows, tell him like everyone else, but he really wants to see him one more time. He figures he can be selfish this once.

So the next night he shows up on time, just like he promised he would after the holidays, but when Adam opens the door Kris says, "Can I talk to you?"

There's a swing on the front porch of course, because the house is determined to be picturesque in every way possible, and they sit for a while until Kris figures out what he wants to say. Turns out it's not that complicated, once he gives up on sugarcoating it.

"We dealt with Francis," he starts, because it's not Adam's business but it's the beginning of the explanation. "We ended up dropping him."

Adam turns, propping a leg up and looking at him. "Okay."

Kris keeps staring straight ahead. "I dropped the rest of my clients, too. You know, after him. I felt terrible, and I'm busy anyway, and – it seemed easiest to just stop."

"But you're here," Adam says leadingly.

"Yeah," Kris says, and tries to peek over at him. "I mean, I don't know if part-time prostitute is all you want from me, but—"

"No," Adam says. "No, this is good."

"Yeah?" Kris asks, looking over and trying not to smile. "Even though I'm only technically semi-retired?" He starts to explain that Anna wanted to keep him on the roll, how she doesn't think he's really done, but he's halfway through stumbling over the first sentence when Adam cuts him off.

"Semi-retired works," Adam says. He smiles at Kris. "Semi-retired is amazing. You want dinner?"

"Yeah," Kris says, grinning, but then Adam holds out a piece of sushi for him and Kris bites his fingers and they end up in the living room instead, and Adam just asks, "Is this okay?" before he rolls Kris over and licks him open.

Kris gets settled, almost sinking into the couch, but Adam kisses at the bottom of his spine and says, "Are you going to kill me for saying that I'm absolutely getting off on the fact that I'm going to be the only one touching you from now on?"

It's just the possessiveness streak, and Kris is going to sigh, but Adam bites the top of his thigh and keeps going, "And I thought I was above this, but I really want to brand you now. Just a small, permanent little scar right where everyone can fucking see it," and he sounds ridiculously nonchalant, and Kris laughs a little until Adam turns him back over and looks down at him, and oh, he wasn't kidding.

"Um," Kris said, trying to wrangle multiple syllables.

"Don't worry," Adam says, lifting a corner of his mouth. "I'm not seriously asking."

"Not yet," Kris says forebodingly, because he sees where this is going, but it comes out more wishful and they're both fucking gone. "Bedroom," he volunteers instead.

"Boring," Adam says, and slaps Kris' ass when he moves. "Stay put."

"No," Kris says, wheedling. "I'll make it worth your while?"

Adam pauses as if he's considering it. "How?"

Kris has to think about it. He's a lot less used to giving than just letting people take, and he can't find anything, after all, besides, "Whatever you want."

Adam's eyes shadow and Kris has to swallow hard, because he means it in a way that's too honest for this early on. "I'm tying you up this time," Adam says, and something starts low at the base of Kris' spine.

The cuffs are just as gorgeous the second time Adam puts them on him, and this time he clips little loops of leather to the metal D-rings and hooks them on the outside edges of the headboard.

"So," Kris starts, but it gives way to an undignified noise when Adam grabs his hips and hauls him back until he can't keep his legs under him and he has to faceplant into the pillows, arms all the way apart. He says, "Oof," and, "Thanks for that," and Adam's polite enough to move the pillows so he won't accidentally smother himself.

"Good?" Adam asks, and as soon as Kris says yes he's spreading him open, licking over and into him, and Kris wiggles against his grip. Adam licks back down behind his balls and then blows air over him, pulling back. "Why don't you like being rimmed?" he asks curiously.

Kris says, slowing his breath, "I do. I just – there's nothing in it for you."

Adam pushes a thumb against his rim, teasing, before moving back down. He says, "Oh, baby, you really think that?" and pushes a couple fingers in along with his tongue before Kris can say anything.

Kris pushes back against him, helplessly, but Adam hums and holds him still. Dropping his head and panting, Kris tries to settle in to wait for Adam to get a move on, but once in a while he kicks his foot down against the mattress. Adam laughs at him a little each time, but when he catches Kris' ankle and keeps him still Kris groans, low, pressing up and testing the hold.

"There you go," Adam says encouragingly, and what? But he goes back to twisting his fingers and holding Kris open for his tongue.

Kris moans again, but Adam isn't moving on, just keeps fucking licking, and somewhere past the five minute mark Kris starts feeling a little fuzzy and loose with it. When he starts trying to hitch away, squirming, Adam pulls back and slaps him lightly. "Give it _up_ already, Kris," sounding exasperated and fond and maybe a little impatient.

Kris swears at him pathetically. "I _told_ you there's nothing in it for you."

Adam says, "I'm going to get to fuck you when you've come, by the way," and Kris is sort of embarrassingly easy after that.

Before Adam licks over him again he gets lube on his fingers and gets Kris dripping, and then he squeezes lube into him again while he pushes his fingers back in.

"Why do you _do_ that?" Kris asks vaguely, twitching.

"Expediency," Adam answers, matter-of-fact, and Kris is half laughing when he comes.

Adam doesn't wait, of course, just slides a condom on and works right in. Kris curls his fingers against the ties until enough of his nervous system comes back online for him to really feel Adam, and then it's sparking across his skin and he closes his eyes and shakes.

\---

He wakes up before Adam. It's what he notices more than anything, the way Adam's sprawled out, facing away from him, and it's ten in the morning. Kris is not cruel enough to wake up any chronic insomniac, never mind _Adam_ , so he moves slowly, just enough to get his palm to curve over Adam's shoulder. He's almost asleep again by the time Adam rolls over to face him. Kris' hand falls on the bed between them.

"Hey," Adam says, smiling slowly.

"Hi," Kris says, yawning so he doesn't do anything embarrassing like coo.

"What time is it?" Adam asks, pushing up to look at the clock. His eyes widen. "Holy shit."

Kris smiles, feeling pleased. "Breakfast?"

"So long as you wipe off that smug expression," Adam says.

Kris just grins wider.

It isn't until they're standing at the island that Adam says, "Oh," and reaches for Kris' wrists. "I forgot to get them off after I unhooked them, sorry. You could've taken them off this morning."

Kris shrugs, watching as Adam undoes the cuffs for him and drops them to the side. They both move slowly after that, eating and putting the dishes away carefully. Finally they have to look at each other and Kris steps closer to Adam.

Adam looks torn, and then says, "Are you busy tomorrow afternoon? I've got press in the morning, but after—"

"Yeah," Kris says hurriedly. "Yeah. Just text me when you're done or whatever."

Adam smiles at him and pulls him up for a slow kiss, and then follows him to the door so Kris gets to live with the indignity of Adam seeing him stumble out like an idiot.  
 ---

The first thing he does is track down Megan. They pick up Hannah for her lunch break, too, so Kris waits until they're all sitting to brag. He leaves out the part where Anna convinced him to stay on hold because he's sure Hannah knows already, and also the part where he'd called Adam immediately after like a lovesick puppy, but he spills enough for it to be embarrassing.

Kris rolls his head to look over at Megan and Hannah, grinning. "It was cool, though, you know? Our first time where it wasn't a job, and it's obviously not that different but it's still cool."

He sounds like an idiot. Megan smiles and pats at his head, says, "Yeah, you're so cute about him," and keeps reading, not listening to a word he's saying.

Hannah chokes on her lemonade though, and Kris sits up and takes the cup from her, offering to rub her back. "Sorry, sorry," she says, laughing a little. "I was just surprised. You're dating a client?"

"Anna did it with Mark," Kris points out defensively. "And Adam's not a client anymore, so technically, no."

"No, sweetie, I'm sorry, you're right. I'm just surprised," her smile shifts, becomes more genuine. "You're really cute together, like Megan said."

"Okay," Kris says, still suspicious she'll grab a book and threaten to knock some sense into him.

"I want to be in the wedding party," she says. "As the official matchmaker, I deserve it."

Kris rolls his eyes. "I really should stop associating with you."

"You'd miss us," Megan says. "You enjoy our company."

"I've been corrupted," Kris says, and Hannah starts giggling.

When they drop her off she says, "So you're seeing him tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah," Kris says, surprised. "How'd you know?"

She makes a face. "You'd be surprised. With how disgusting you're acting right now, I'm surprised you aren't seeing him _tonight_."

"Yeah," Kris says, half-wistful.

Megan snorts.

"Come in and keep me company," Hannah whines at Megan, moving on. "Come on, Megan, Liz is going out tonight in this like, fetish pig costume, we can make fun of her. It'll be awesome, please?"

\---

Except then Adam calls him that afternoon for them to go on a _date_. Kris spends an embarrassingly long time picking a damn t-shirt to wear to the fucking _mall_ , what the hell, it's just shopping, and finally Cale shoves him out the door while talking about how he'll call his girlfriend tomorrow so Kris can go with her to get his _nails_ done, Jesus.

Adam meets him there, faintly embarrassed at calling when it's only been a couple of hours, but Kris trips over himself trying to say hello while falling into him, and all in all they're both pretty hopeless, so it's even.

Only it was a terrible idea, because Adam's idea of shopping is going in _every single store ever_ and Kris' idea of shopping is buying a pair of socks and then sitting at the food court all afternoon, and Adam wins by virtue of being able to drag Kris around bodily.

Kris is poking through the jeans in some snotty boutique, very obviously bored, when Adam drapes himself over Kris' shoulders and says, "When I fuck you this time you're going to come while I'm inside you."

Kris shudders, but he's tired of being so fucking easy, so he shrugs Adam off and says, "You're the one who thought that wasn't good enough last night."

Adam narrows his eyes. "You weren't objecting."

Kris shrugs deliberately. "I still don't get the appeal."

Adam hauls him close, less playful. "You really don't?"

Kris blinks. "I don't know. No?"

"Well, look, you like giving blowjobs, right?" Adam says.

"Well, yeah," Kris says, "but I like it because I like feeling used, like, I guess it's the objectification?" He makes a face. "That sounds terrible."

Adam's looking at him intently.

"What?" Kris asks, and then he flushes.

"That is amazing," Adam says sincerely. "Also, we're doing that now."

"As soon as we get to your house," Kris says, trying to divert Adam's attention before he gets them into a fitting room. "You can tie me to your bed and—"

"We'll do that, too," Adam says dismissively, and locks the door behind them. "For now, though, on your knees."

The way he's grinning is like he's teasing, but Kris wasn't lying about this, and he's dropped almost before he can process what Adam's told him to do.

Adam gets abruptly serious, like he believes Kris now, and Kris shuts his eyes while Adam works his jeans open. Then Adam's hand is cupping the back of his head, pulling him forward, and Kris opens his mouth blindly and lets Adam slide over his tongue. He reaches up for Adam's hips and Adam says, "Hands on your thighs," voice rough.

He slides in deeper and Kris has spit going everywhere because he can't swallow it down with his jaw this wide open. He curls his hands into fists and presses them against his legs, and tries to wiggle closer, tipping his head up for a better angle.

Adam says, "Open your eyes," so Kris does, watching Adam watch him, and when Adam pulls back a little he tries to move his tongue.  
 Groaning, Adam thrusts a little harder, and he asks, "Can I—" lowly, until Kris moans and his fingers twitch against reaching up.

Then Adam's moving faster, tangling his fingers in Kris' hair and angling him so he can slide back and forth, slick and easy. There's a kid's voice outside, and Kris closes his eyes again, because they're in a dressing room. Anyone who looks under the door will see he's kneeling in front of Adam, and _fuck_.

"Give me your hand," Adam says roughly, and Kris reaches up so Adam can wrap their hands around the bottom of his cock. "Go down," he says, and Kris pulls off to pant up at him a couple of times. "I bet anything you can," Adam says, and Kris swallows hard before letting his spit pool in his mouth, leaning forward and making sure Adam's as wet as he can get him. Then he puts his other hand on Adam's hip for balance and moves, thankful for Adam's holding him up, keeping him steady, and he feels the head of Adam's cock run across the top of his mouth until it hits the back of his throat, and then flattens his tongue and keeps going down.

His gag reflex wants to kick in right before his lips meet their hands. Adam slides their hands down and pulls Kris closer still, and then he's going all the way down, easier than it has any right to be.

Adam groans too loudly, and Kris jerks back, almost choking, when a woman's heels click by the door.

"Come on," Adam says.

"Be quiet," Kris hisses up at him. "I don't want to get caught."

Adam smiles sharply and leans back against the wall, pressing his foot against Kris' crotch. "I don't believe you."

Kris goes back down, because there's not really anything else he can do. He can only get Adam all the way back down once more, even though he tries, and Adam pets through his hair while he calls Kris a useless little slut. Kris is shaking by the time Adam comes, even though it's faster than he's ever gotten Adam off before, and he's not above rutting against Adam's foot a little desperately. He presses close when Adam pulls him to his feet, and Adam undoes his jeans enough to get him out and jerk him dry. Kris comes after a couple of pulls, silent and desperate, and Adam catches most of it in on his hand.

He presses his fingers into Kris' mouth when Kris is done, and Kris is obedient, sucking his fingers clean and licking across his palm. When he's gotten it all Adam nuzzles at him, kissing him and saying, "Good boy," quietly, over and over, sounding like Kris is something precious.

\---

The next night they see a movie, and Monday Kris is busy and then Adam's not around for three days after that, so when they see each other Friday Kris basically moves in for the weekend. Sunday, though, Adam's got a gallery opening he's going to.

He invites Kris along, and Kris teases him about being a discerning art snob, really? But Adam says, "The work is by an ex," with his face going all tight, so Kris shuts up. He's not sure what he'll do, except then they don't run into the ex, and it isn't very stressful at all.

Kris is able to spend most of the week following with Adam, too, but then Adam has to get busy in the studio, he's way behind schedule, and it's far enough along in the semester that Kris' classes are all hitting their strides. Since he can't afford to fail the last semester of his college degree program – business management, which is horribly practical and appalls Adam – Kris has to make sure he passes all of the exams coming up, and he doesn't see Adam until a couple days before Valentine's Day. When he does he wishes he hadn't, because Adam's in a foul mood and they end up fighting over something that is really only a little bit Kris' fault.

It's stupid the way these things usually are – they're both grumpy and Kris doesn't answer his phone when Adam calls and when they do manage to get together Adam mocks him for his busy schedule and Kris yells back.

Kris would totally apologize first, partly because he feels bad and partly because Megan keeps threatening to do it for him. Hannah just bites her lip while Kris is complaining, and since she's the only one of them with years of practice at this committed-relationship thing Kris decides to follow her example and wait it out.

Adam does a show on Valentine's, not that Kris actually cares, but he calls Kris after, voice rough and tired, and asks him to come over. It's about three in the morning when Kris gets over there and they're both so exhausted that when Adam smiles tentatively Kris just smiles back and they crash until noon.

Or Kris does, at least. Adam's awake and watching TV when he rolls over and gives his customary whining about the sun through the fucking windows. Adam snorts and covers Kris' eyes helpfully, and Kris asks, "How long have you been up?"

Adam shrugs and Kris peels his hand off. "Since eight."

Kris says, "That's only five hours." Adam's had worse nights, sure, but he's also definitely had better.

"You can add," Adam says flatly.

Kris says, "Right. Do you want me to just go, then?" Because fuck if he's going to hang around and get bitched at.

Adam stares determinedly at the screen and Kris sighs, but then Adam says, "Holidays suck."

"Wait," Kris says. "You've been crabby because of _Valentine's Day_?" He's not sure it'd be okay to start laughing, but he really wants to.

"Shut up," Adam says, but he starts to smile a little.

So maybe they never talk it out and crap like Megan keeps suggesting, but Adam gets over it and Kris survives. She just rolls her eyes unhappily when Kris points this out.

The beginning of March sees Adam drag Kris to some stupid club even though Kris was at the beach all day and he's sunburned and sore. Adam has clothes for him and Kris is too tired to fight, but he's also not above being completely unhelpful and making Adam basically dress him. Normally this would distract Adam sufficiently, would work in Kris' favor and they'd get to stay in, but not this time.

Kris sighs, aggrieved, but Adam looks him over critically and says, "Wait here." He comes back with the leather cuffs and buckles them on Kris' wrists.

Kris looks and them and says, "So, um, what type of club was this?"

Adam snorts.

It's the kind that's got a line for half a block and is hugely pretentious and not at all unique. Adam goes to make nice at someone who he says hates him enough without Kris tagging along. He softens it by adding that he'd protect Kris from her if he could. Kris is glad to stay behind, looking at Adam askance while he walks up to the top offices. The bartender Kris winds up talking to is pretty cool, all laid back and quiet. She doesn't seem to fit their surroundings.

"And this is Kris," Adam says loudly before Kris is hauled around by his shirt collar.

"Nice to meet you," says a woman a little older than Kris. She's done up in leather and rhinestones and four inch heels, and has a guy at her side who looks completely cowed.

Kris echoes her, reaching out to shake hands.

"This is Eric," she says offhandedly. "Now really, come with me, you must want something to drink."

Kris raises his eyebrows because what, is he not sitting at the bar? Adam makes a complaining noise at her but doesn't stop them, and Kris gets sent off with her to the ladies' room.

"Oh, good, you're polite," she says when he holds her purse while she leans over the counter to check her makeup. "That's an upgrade."

Kris doesn't say anything rude, but it's close. "Oh, really?"

She nods, pursing her lips at her reflection. "Yeah. You've probably figured this out, by the way, but this is where I tell you that if you ever try to use your profession against him I'll kill you." She smiles prettily at herself and then turns to face him. "So?"

"Um," Kris says, at a loss, except then she narrows her eyes and he blurts out, "Yes? I mean, no, I'm not—" He stops. If Adam hasn't told her they're dating he's certainly not going to. He's a little surprised she seems okay with the idea of a prostitute but what does he know? "I won't," he promises instead.

She looks unimpressed. "Because his last two boyfriends were not so great. It doesn't help that he goes through them like tissue paper. I don't blame him for paying for one, really."

"Okay?" Kris says. "Uh."

She shakes her head and leads him out, nails sharp against his arm. "You must be a damn good fuck."

Kris looks at Adam wide-eyed when they get back, and Adam's quick to get Kris away from the frightening woman and out to the nice quiet car with the nice, civil driver. "Sorry," Adam says sheepishly.

Blinking, Kris says, "Care to explain?"

"Susan just takes her work seriously, and I don't make things easy on her." Adam taps his fingers against the seat. "I wasn't going to tell her about you in the beginning, but now that you're going to be around all the time she should know. And if people start asking about you it's her job to handle."

"Her job?" Kris asks faintly.

"She's my publicist," Adam says, like it's obvious. "She thinks she gets veto rights on anyone I might be seen in public with ever."

"And does she?" Kris asks, almost serious. "Because I don't think I made a good impression."

"No, you were fine," Adam says. "She can't do anything anyway. She's just pissed because she thinks I've been hiding you for a couple months."

"Well, technically," Kris says, but Adam says, " _She_ doesn't know that."

"Look, maybe this is a stupid question, but wouldn't it have been easier to tell her I was your boyfriend instead of a prostitute?"

"Yeah," Adam says ruefully. "But I'm not good with dating. Obviously, or I wouldn't have come to Skyline Services in the first place. After my last break up she told me no dating for a year."

"Oh," Kris says.

Adam laughs. "I mean, obviously I have no problem getting a boyfriend. It's keeping one. And Susan and I like each other, so she chooses to blame everything on them."

Kris says, "And it's not just them?"

Shrugging, Adam blows out a breath. "I don't know. It's hard to be impartial about break ups, you know?"

The thing is, though, Kris doesn't. He'd never had a chance to date in college, and he really doubts high school counts. He never plans on admitting that Adam's his first real relationship, and now especially wouldn't be the time, so he does what's best for them both and says, "Yeah."

"Anyway," Adam says, shaking himself. "It's not you."

"Well," Kris says finally, because he's out of options. "Like you said: if you had been able to keep a boyfriend I probably wouldn't have met you. And I really wouldn't have liked that."

Adam smiles over at him, and Kris relaxes against the window and twists to kick his feet against Adam's leg.

It isn't until they're in Adam's kitchen, foraging for some specific type of tea or something, that Adam says, "I should have asked you—" trailing off.

"Hm?" Kris says, engrossed in digging through Adam's texts. He actually _lets_ Kris go through his phone, probably because he has less personal boundaries than anyone Kris has ever met, and maybe because there is absolutely nothing on it. It's the most boring prying Kris has ever done. Of course, the escort agency number programmed in would probably be a shock for most people, so maybe Kris is just coming at this from the wrong angle. He likes the idea, though, that he's Adam's best-kept secret. It's weirdly appealing, like he's something to be kept safe.

"You'll be photographed with me," Adam says. "And people will wonder, and eventually Susan will make me actually tell people who you are."

"Oh," Kris says, looking up at him. "That's okay? I mean, I'm alright with it if you are. You can say, you know, whatever." He winces when he's done, because what the hell kind of answer is that, but Adam smiles at him brightly.

"Susan will probably have us say we've been dating for a long time. You're okay with being known as Adam Lambert's boyfriend?" and he's teasing, but Kris turns into him and kisses him and says, "Yes."

Adam takes in a startled breath and presses him into the counter, completely ignoring the microwave going off for his tea. He says, "Why? You're not supposed to be," but won't stop kissing Kris long enough for Kris to ask what that's supposed to mean. Finally Kris has to push him away because his back is killing him where the edge is digging in. He says, "Get your tea."

"No," Adam says. "It'll wait."

"So will I," Kris points out. "And if you don't drink it or dump it out now you'll complain about how disgusting it looks when it's been sitting out and everything's settled at the bottom." He'd listened to Adam bitch for almost fifteen minutes one morning about exactly that. Never again.

"Way to ruin the mood," Adam says.

Kris sighs. "If I promise to be naked in the bedroom by the time you're done clearing it up will you feel better?"

"Maybe," Adam says blithely, going to the sink obediently.

Kris rolls his eyes, but it's not like he's reluctant to hold up his end of the deal. He leaves the cuffs on when he's stripping, though.

When Adam comes in Kris is sitting on the edge of the bed. He leans over, kissing him lightly, and then pushes flat. He asks, "So in all your many years of experience, what have you done?"

Kris tenses and pushes himself up on his hands. "What?"

Adam says, "Relax, I just want to know."

"People never just want to know," Kris says darkly. He really doesn't want Adam to start having doubts about his past this early.

Adam raises his eyebrows. "So I'm not allowed to want something from you that you've never given before?"

"You might be." Kris sits up, moving back against the headboard.

Adam says, "I want to do things to you you've never felt before."

Kris sort of – twitches, because it should be funny, it's so trite, but Adam _means_ it, and that's sort of hot in a way Kris hadn't considered. So instead he says, "Possessive."

"Do you blame me?" Adam cocks his head and crawls up to him. "More importantly, do you have a problem with it?"

"What if I do?" Kris says, right before Adam can get close.

"Then I guess I'll have to win you over," Adam says, low and serious. Then he says, lighter, "Oh, let me kiss you already."

Kris breathes out, and it feels a lot like relief. "I don't mind," he says, because it's true. "But I'm not sure you want to hear me list off everything I've ever done." He's not ashamed of any of it – except that time with the feather boa, that doesn't bear remembering – but he's pretty sure his mother would be cautioning prudency. Even admitting to some would be bad enough.

"You think I'll be jealous?" Adam asks.

"Yes," Kris says. "I would be." Not that he'd object, even if he has no clue why this is coming up now. There's always something inherently hot about being fucked by someone who wants to own you.

"Fair enough," Adam says, smiling slightly. "How about I do the listing then? I'll say everything I want to do to you, and you can tell me if someone else did it first."

"Okay," Kris says, but Adam finishes, "And eventually I'll do all of those, too. Like reclamation."

Kris says, "Oh." He's run out of anything else.

But instead of talking Adam kisses him again, keeps kissing him until Kris is arching up and making impatient noises.

"I will get myself off, I swear to God," Kris says, "just get off my hands and let me, if you're going to be stubborn."

"Fuck, you're rude," Adam says, grinning down at him. "And good place to start, by the way. So, have you ever jerked off for someone to watch you? Fingered yourself in front of them so they could look but not touch?"

"Yeah," Kris says. "Try again."

Adam snorts and licks his neck. "What about with toys?"

"Um, yes," Kris says, angling his head back for better access. "Different, uh—" Adam bites and he wiggles a little. "Different toys, too."

"Of course," Adam says appreciatively. Kris wonders if he isn't being mocked. "Here, scoot."

Kris moves down, laying flat, and Adam settles next to him, still not relinquishing his neck. "Have I ever had my entire torso covered with hickeys?" Kris says. "Yes."

"I've done that," Adam says, smiling a little goofily. "And I know you've been marked up other ways, too. And I am absolutely going to do that, tie you down and spank you. I have paddles and crops, too." Kris' breathing hitches, and Adam digs his teeth into his pulse point. "You want it, don't you? You really do love that," and Kris gives in and grabs the back of his head, pulling his mouth in tighter.

Adam's helpful, grabs skin and bites until Kris hisses and tries to get away. When Adam lets go he says, "And what about in public? Have you ever worn a toy out for someone?"

Kris swallows hard.

"No?" Adam teases. "Of course, it's the one thing we can't do right now."

"You shouldn't have brought it up, then," Kris says, or tries to. Adam trails his hand down to curl around Kris' hip and Kris loses track of the words.

Adam traces his fingers over his ass, rough and dry, and presses a slow finger into him. Kris gasps at the drag but pushes back into it, and Adam watches him, says, "That's best, though, isn't it? You like being forced open."

Kris pants at him, which is really not hot until Adam licks into his unresisting mouth and turns it into a sloppy kiss instead.

"What's the largest toy you've ever taken?" Adam asks, twisting his finger so Kris can feel the burning. "Have you ever been fisted?"

He isn't even sure how he should try to answer, but Kris arches and lets out nonsensical syllables and tries to push closer all at the same time.

"Yeah," Adam says, eyes dark. "All right."

"Oh," Kris says, when Adam rolls him over and grabs out a bottle of lube. "You think—"

"Get yourself wet," Adam says, dropping the bottle next to him. "I'll be right back."

Kris pushes up to his knees and trails his fingers back. He's dripping lube all over the bedspread, but he rubs his fingers over himself and pushes in two, hurrying things along. There's no point, though, because he's up to three fingers in a minute and Adam still isn't back. He sighs, wriggling impatiently, but with nobody to hurry along he goes back to two, seeing how well he can curl them. The first really good press against his prostate makes him jump, and then he moans a little and focuses in on it.

"Good," Adam says lowly, and Kris would startle if he weren't too busy squirming on his own fingers. "Good, Kris."

He takes it as his cue to stop, drawing his fingers out and digging them into the bedspread next to him. Adam moves onto the bed next to him, and his fingers trail lightly over where Kris is stretched open. He can feel himself, all loose, and when Adam takes the lube and squeezes he can feel some of it dripping in, puddling inside him. He shudders.

"Here," Adam says. "Lie all the way down."

Kris groans. The bedspread presses against his cock, a cold tease, and he thrusts a little impatiently.

"Okay, hold on," and he swears Adam's laughing at him. "Breathe, Kris."

"Shut up," Kris says tightly. "Shut up and _do_ something."

Adam slides three fingers in right away, thank god, and curls them just like Kris was doing. Kris tightens around them, pushing back, and for once Adam gets the hint because he draws back and then Kris feels four fingers.

It's not hard to take them, just one deep breath and a slow slide in, but it's still an uncomfortable pull and Kris is glad for the disgusting amount of lube and the way Adam always seems content to push slowly in and out, watching Kris stretch for him. He actually slides them all the way out, and Kris sighs against his arm because he knows Adam likes the first time he opens more than anything but this isn't exactly hurrying things along, here. He tells Adam something to that effect, and Adam says, "Fine," sounding put upon, and also decides to teach Kris a lesson on patience because when he pushes them back in he doesn't stop, just works in until Kris has him all the way up past his knuckles.

And yeah, okay, they can go back to the nice slow teasing, please, Adam does know best, just don't—

"Shh," Adam says, "You're fine."

He sounds so _sure_ , and Kris hates him, seriously, does he know how this feels? Like if he breathes too deeply he'll break.

"No, you won't," Adam says, low and terrifyingly certain. "You've taken this much before."

"When I was already half fucked _out_ ," Kris says, voice breaking. "Not like this, not when I can _feel_ —"

Adam pulls his hand back, knuckles pulling back outside, and Kris gulps in air. Then Adam's putting more lube all over, Kris can feel it sliding down his thighs and as a new curl of slightly-too-cold where Adam's fingers are spreading him open.

He stops breathing entirely when he feels Adam's thumb curl in against his palm, just touching Kris' rim, because he knows what's coming and fuck, was he stupid, thinking he could do this?

There's not even enough time for him to anticipate it, though, because like everything else Adam just _goes_ for it, fingers spreading to let his thumb get started and then there's just his wrist working his hand back and forth, twisting slowly in. He stops right before the widest part, right before Kris is going to have to open for his knuckles, and pets Kris' back while he gasps and tries to keep from moving any muscle at all.

"All right?" Adam asks carefully. "You don't have to do this," and fuck, he had to ask.

If he hadn't Kris could've said no, could've said stop and it wouldn't have meant anything at all, but now Kris _can't_ , he has to do this, _wants_ to do this, not just to prove he can or to know what it feels like and especially not just to get off, but because he wants to give this to Adam, force himself past the boundary Adam's gotten them up against.

He says, "Yes, I want to," and means it utterly, and Adam takes him at face value, like he knows it's true despite the way Kris' voice shook, and pushes.

Kris doesn't make any sound at all when Adam slides the widest part of his hand through, and he shakes after it's in and Adam's rubbing his back, touching him everywhere and talking low. Kris hears him but doesn't listen, he doesn't need to right now, and he can't feel anything but Adam's hand inside him, carefully still.

When he does make a noise it's because he's opened his mouth and he's moaning, can't stop, and he's still hard, desperate, even though he hadn't thought he would be.

"Kris," Adam says, leaning over slowly and kissing his shoulder. "Can you come like this or do you need me to pull out?"

"Mm—" Kris gets out, before his hips jerk and he pushes back against it. "Fuck," he gasps out then, and all Adam does is curl his fingers, move his hand a little back like he's testing what Kris will give him, and Kris comes, a slow shaky roll everywhere.

"Easy," Adam says warningly, and then he works his hand back out. It's almost worse than going in, and Kris whimpers faintly when he's all the way out.

Then Adam's pressing against his hip and Kris tries to roll over and help but he can't get the coordination up fast enough and instead Adam's coming, warm and sticky against his hip and back.

"Gross," Kris says, teasing, but he's too tired to understand what Adam says in return. Instead he waits until Adam's done moving around, getting up and bringing back washcloths and a blanket so that Kris doesn't have to try to squirm underneath the covers. Kris thinks he loves Adam a lot, and then he's asleep.

\---

A couple weeks later Adam calls at seven in the fucking morning.

"You better be dying," Kris says seriously.

"I have a condo," Adam says triumphantly. "I think you should come help me christen it."

"Oh, Jesus," Kris groans, shoving his head, phone and all, under the pillow. "This couldn't wait until _nine_ in the morning?"

"No," Adam says cheerfully. "Because the moving crew is coming over today and I think you should come help. You know, since you told me you have nothing better to do today."

"Adam," Kris hisses, "I said I had nothing to do and I was going to laze around and it would be amazing. That does not mean nothing better to do."

"But still not as good as putting in your labor and then getting fucked above Sunset Boulevard," Adam says, like he knows he's won.

Kris is quiet for about thirty seconds. Then, "Fuck. Fuck you, seriously," he grumbles, hanging up when Adam starts laughing.

"Where the fuck are you going?" Cale growls when Kris trips in the kitchen and knocks over half the dirty dishes sitting on the counter.

"Why the fuck are you sleeping on the couch?" Kris counters uncharitably.

"Seriously, dude," Cale says.

Kris sighs. "I'm helping Adam move."

Cale looks distrustful. "Isn't he rich and famous? Shouldn't he have people move for him?"

"He wants to participate or something," Kris says. "I don't know. Are we out of milk?"

"Yes, and you're _helping_?" Cale sits up, completely awake now.

"Yes," Kris says. "Don't ask why."

"Because you're completely whipped, that's why."

Kris almost inhales his orange juice trying not to laugh.

"I don't want to know," Cale says quickly. "Ew."

"Anyway," Kris says, "Bye."

"No, wait!" Cale yelps, throwing himself onto his feet. "Two minutes, I'm coming with."

"No, you're not," Kris says reflexively. "Why?"

"Well, it's time someone met this new guy. Especially considering circumstances," Cale yells prissily from the bathroom.

"Stop fucking talking to Megan," Kris says, but he knows it's a lost cause, and they end up at Adam's by eight.

Adam's overjoyed to see them, since he thought it would be a great idea to tell the movers they were only responsible for the furniture.

"It won't even fit in my car," Adam says, lamenting a picture that's as big as the door.

"It won't fit in his, then, either," Cale says from behind it.

"Shit," Adam says unhappily, and goes to call the movers again.

"Wow," Cale says once he's safely out of the room, and Kris holds his breath. "He's a little spastic."

Kris laughs, relieved. "He can be, yeah. It's cute."

"I don't see it," Cale says honestly, and Kris shrugs, grinning like an idiot when Adam starts whining at the movers from somewhere in the closet.

So the movers get the rest of the boxes, but Cale ends up hanging around while they unpack. Kris is careful to keep him to the boxes with movies and family photos and not sex toys and shoes, and they break for lunch and get Italian even though Adam starts whining about carbs.

"Pizza?" Kris asks pointedly, and Adam shuts up and sulks.

They're done with most of the boxes by dinnertime, even though things are less organized than they probably should be. If Adam has to go anywhere in a hurry he'd be screwed. Cale beats a strategic retreat, but when he says goodbye to Adam it seems pretty sincere, and Adam doesn't say anything sarcastic as he's walking out the door. Kris is tentatively labeling it a success when Adam says, deceptively lightly, "So what was that?"

"Um," Kris says, "What?"

Adam glares. "You know I don't want to interrupt any plans of yours. If you're already busy you should just say so."

"That was my roommate," Kris says.

"Oh," Adam says.

"Why?" Kris asks. He has a sudden suspicion— "Who did you think it was?"

"Nobody," Adam says nonchalantly. "What do you want for dinner?"

"Adam," Kris says.

"Well, you came so early, and in the same car. And you've never _mentioned_ a roommate!" Adam says indignantly.

Kris starts to laugh. "I spent like, an hour telling you about Cale when we were first getting to know each other, and you thought he was, what, a one night stand?"

Adam narrows his eyes at him.

"That's cute," Kris says. "You suck at acting jealous though."

"Well, I kind of liked him," Adam admits reluctantly. "It was giving me a complex."

Kris snorts once or twice more and then reaches up to kiss him. "It's okay, I promise. Exclusivity is one of the clauses, here."

Adam huffs against his mouth and Kris repeats, "I promise."

Then Adam's pressing him up against the wall of windows, and when he suggested fucking above Sunset Boulevard he wasn't joking. Kris is glad the apartment is dark, because anyone who looks up will probably see enough as it is, but they're on the eleventh floor of Adam's new condo, and it absolutely looks like it was built for him, and Kris is not going to object to wrapping his legs around Adam's hips and rubbing against each other like teenagers.

His shirt works its way up when he slides down, and he shivers at the press of skin to cold glass. He tries to brace himself when Adam pulls at it, working it over his head, but he slips and they almost both fall over.

"Maybe we should—" he says, laughing into Adam's mouth, and then, "I mean, there's a bedroom, with a _bed_ —"

"Fuck," Adam says, pulling back abruptly. " _Fuck_."

"What?" Kris asks, but it's hard to be really concerned when Adam's apparently not upset enough to stop digging the heel of his palm into Kris' crotch. It's almost painful, but they're pressed so close together he can't get away, and if he tries to grind back he'll probably get himself dropped. He's basically stuck here, while his hips try to hitch closer to Adam.

"I have no idea which box the lube is in," Adam says mournfully. "Never mind _condoms_."

Kris starts laughing again, helpless, even when Adam makes an irritated growly noise and basically flattens them against the window, kissing Kris and biting his neck where there's still a yellowing bruise. "Fucking fuck," he mutters, almost absently, and that starts Kris up again, but he's close anyway, from being fondled like they're at third base, and then Adam also says, "Your stupid fucking neck, I'm going to fucking tattoo something here, you keep fucking _healing_."

All the last of the drunken giggles and the words about how it'd be bad if he didn't heal get tangled in his throat with the sudden rush of _want_ that spikes with Adam's teeth digging in, just right, and he comes suddenly, while Adam licks away what Kris really hopes isn't a little bit of blood.

"Holy shit," Adam says reverently.

"Fuck off," Kris says. "Not a word. And I can't blow you if I'm up here."

Adam turns and lets him down so fast he's practically dropped him, and Kris is laughing again a little while he works his pants down. When he's got Adam's cock out Adam's hand cradles the back of his skull and the other holds his jaw, thumbing his mouth open and sliding over his tongue so he's wide open before Adam slides into his mouth. Kris looks up at him, staring down intently, and moans before he can stop himself.

Smiling a little, Adam's fingers curl up and press against Kris' cheek. Kris wonders if he can feel himself. Adam takes his thumb away, letting Kris lick, and leans sideways to press his hand against the window for balance. He says, "Kris, look," softly.

Kris turns a little, careful to keep Adam as far in his mouth as he can, and he knows what Adam means. They're reflected in the window, just dark anonymous shapes, and Hollywood spread out behind them. He groans, desperately, and he doesn't ever want to leave. He'd stay here forever, on his knees for Adam in a dark apartment he can almost pretend is theirs.

\---

"Oh, hey," Adam says, coming out of the bathroom toweling his hair. The condo's shower is amazing, but even Kris can't bathe for forty-five minutes like Adam. "You leaving?"

"Yeah, sorry," Kris says, looping his backpack over his shoulder. "Test at eight in the morning."

"Finals?" Adam asks sympathetically. "Sucks."

"Oh, yeah, because you'd know," Kris teases lightly, and goes over to get a kiss goodbye. "You said I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow, yeah," Adam says lowly, grabbing his hips and holding him in place for a longer kiss. "Text me when you're free, I'll come get you."

"Alright," Kris says, slapping Adam's hands away. "You have to let me go then."

"No," Adam says, smiling, and, "Oh, wait, Kris. I almost forgot," when Kris is shutting the door. He rummages through a box on the hall table, holds out an envelope.

"What's up?" Kris asks, taking it. It's unmarked.

Adam makes a face. "I found out my manager canceled my Amex, worried it'd gotten stolen or something, so the last couple payments probably haven't gone through. That's for the last three times, but you should have Hannah check to make sure it's enough."

"What?" Kris says. He stares at Adam, who cocks his head at him.

Sounding amused, Adam says, "Canceled credit card, Hannah, your job? Any of this sound familiar?"

"Oh," Kris says. "Yeah," only he's not sure it was all that intelligible over the buzzing in his ears.

"Yeah?" Adam says, looking more concerned. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Kris says, and, "Yes," louder, like he can repeat it and make it true. "Just tired, you know."

Adam nods and leans against the doorframe while Kris walks down the hall, just like always, and Kris turns before he gets in the elevator and Adam is smiling at him, warm and inviting and completely fucking _fake_ , just like fucking _always_.

Kris gets to the curb outside the hotel before he opens the envelope. He's not crying, thank fuck, he can be spared one indignity after all, and he has a check for twenty thousand in his hand so he waves a taxi over and tells the driver to drop him at work.

Hannah's still in, of course, and Kris walks in and drops the check in front of her and says, "Tell me you didn't know."

From her face he can tell she did, though, and then Megan comes down the stairs and sees him and says, "Oh, _honey_ ," and he's done, he drops to the ground, winded, and Megan's petting him and shushing him and _fuck_ , but he's screwed up.

They walk him home, both of them, even while Kris is yelling at them and Cale's at the door waiting like he knew too, even though he swears it's just that one of the girls called him on their way over. Kris believes him at least, and lets him take his backpack and shove him into bed, terrible at this nurturing shit just like always. He doesn't sleep and he skips his test the next day and it's Sunday morning before he leaves his room, and even then it's because Cale says, "Anna's here."

Actually, Cale doesn't say it's Anna so much as he sticks his head in cautiously and says _there's some scary older woman outside_ but Kris knows what he means, so he drags himself into jeans and out of the apartment. She hands him a thermos of coffee at the door, and they go for a walk silently.

Kris knows she's not going to speak first. She taught him, after all.

"When trying to get clients to open up, Kris, all you have to do is make your willingness to listen clear. Ally yourself with them and they will do the rest," she'd said, and then made him practice on strangers in a park.

Knowing what she's doing doesn't make it any less effective, and as they turn a corner Kris says, "I fell in love with him."

Anna told them once, "You have to love your clients," and Megan protested, said, "You told us to remember it's just business!"

"Yes," Anna said patiently. "But you won't be good in the business if you can't love them at least a little."

But now Anna tells him, sounding rueful, "It happens to the best of us."

Kris tries to laugh. "You never mentioned this part."

"Of course not," Anna says. "All I'd be able to do is caution you against it, and in the end it'd be wasted breath. It would happen or not no matter what I said."

"Really?" Kris says faintly, trying not to listen. His phone is going off.

"You wouldn't believe how many of my protégés I've counseled through things like this," she says calmly, watching as he presses ignore. "Everyone who works long enough reaches a point where they're good enough that they start disregarding the rules – they play favorites with clients, they give out their private number, they blur the line between work and personal entanglements because they're so certain they already know where it is."

"So this is a lecture?" Kris says grimly.

"Kristopher," she says, sounding exasperated. "Neither of us has time for this level of stupidity. I _married_ one of my clients."

Kris blinks at her.

"This is encouragement," she finishes softly.

Kris shakes his head. "You said to never fall in love with them," because they're disregarding the important part where he's been the biggest idiot in the world. She takes his phone from his hand and pulls up Adam's contact info, holding it back out to him.

"Dear, the best escorts always will."

Kris takes it grudgingly, staring down at the display. "How do I know it's not just business for him?" Since it really has been all along.

Anna shrugs. "You ask. At least he deserves to know why you won't be seeing him again."

Kris nods, still staring at the phone. Anna leaves him there, though Kris wishes she'd stayed. He's not sure he'll actually call, not sure he won't go back in to the house long enough to grab his stuff and make Hannah make the call, a small step towards paying him back for lying all these months. He stands up to walk back to his apartment, figures he'll email his professor and see if he can make up that exam.

Adam calls him again.

Kris answers before he can stop himself. He holds the phone up to his ear but doesn't say anything, and after a couple of seconds Adam says, "Hello? Kris?"

Kris winces, says, "Hello," and then has to clear his throat.

Adam's voice warms. "Hey, I missed you the first time."

"Yeah," Kris says. "Sorry." He doesn't offer an explanation, though.

They're both silent for a moment and then Adam says briskly, "Anyway, I wanted to call and see how your test went. I didn't hear from you yesterday, and obviously I thought the worst."

"You thought I failed?" Kris asks, and hopes Adam will attribute his tone to being teasing.

"No, I thought you were lying in a ditch somewhere. I was going to call the police when you didn't answer your phone this morning, but then I thought about them storming in to investigate your apartment just because I'd called while you were in the shower and how pissed you'd be and I decided to try your cell one more time." Adam sounds perfectly serious.

Kris snorts, trying not to laugh. That's not his role any more. Instead he says, "I just had something come up," trying to sell the lie, and while they're here, "I'm sorry I couldn't come yesterday."

"It's fine," Adam says, and Kris can practically see him waving his hand expansively. "Are you doing anything today?"

Nothing he wasn't planning on skipping anyway, so he lets Adam give him the address of a place that apparently has brunch to die for. He rides the bus over, glad he'd grabbed his wallet before leaving with Anna. It's not hard to spot Adam, especially with the way he's waving like a lunatic over in the corner. Shit, Kris is going to miss him.

Kris doesn't bother getting food at the buffet, just settles into the chair across from Adam. "Hey," he says eloquently, and Adam makes a face.

"Are you not eating? Or, oh, have you eaten already? Sorry, I'll learn not to assume everyone's schedule is as weird as mine one of these days."

"No," Kris says. "No, I just can't stay long. I just wanted to talk to you in person."

"Okay?" Adam says, pushing his plate to the side.

"I'm retiring," Kris says, because he can't look at Adam now and say _I fell in love with you, please tell me you weren't using me for sex_.

Adam frowns at him. "Retiring? As in—"

"As in no longer working as an escort," Kris says, and he doesn't have to worry about it sounding like a lie because it's not – he's just telling the truth months too late. He continues, "This was never going to be my career, and I'm graduating in a few weeks—" but Adam's talking over him, "No, I understand, obviously, that makes sense," and they trail off at about the same time.

Finally Adam smiles at him. "Well, hey, thanks for coming to see me this morning. You're welcome to eat."

"I can't," Kris makes himself say. "I really have to go."

"Okay," Adam says simply. He stands when Kris does. "I'm not sure what the etiquette is for this type of thing, but can I kiss you goodbye?"

"Yeah," Kris says. "Of course."

But it's not even a real kiss, just a hug and Adam's lips against his forehead.

"Good luck," Adam tells him, and Kris, like always, leaves.

\---

He gets to make up his test. He has to lie, of course, tell them it was a family death, but he wasn't the only person who missed it and they don't want to keep him from graduating, so he goes in Tuesday night. It's the first time he's had the night free in years.

Megan and Hannah come to his college's graduation ceremony. They're not the only ones, obviously – he's got family and friends there too, but they are the only ones from work. Afterwards, while his mother's hugging and kissing and crying all over him, Megan leads them over.

Kris is not ashamed to admit he's been avoiding them both. He thinks he's entitled, but Megan introduces Hannah to his family and then asks to borrow him for a moment and Kris can't do anything without looking like an ass.

"You have to listen to us," she tells him flatly. "You don't have to talk to us ever again, but you do have to _listen_."

"Fine," Kris says grudgingly.

Hannah says, "I understand you're pissed, and you're right. We just didn't want to hurt you. It was me, I withheld the first payment. I've been holding all of them back so you wouldn't see the money coming in and figure it out."

He wouldn't have noticed anyway – Kris never checks his bank accounts. "You didn't think I'd find out eventually?" he asks though, because really?

"We hoped you'd get over it by then," Megan says. "I thought the media would get a hold of you and he'd dump you, or you'd decide you hated him, or _something_. But you didn't."

"No," Kris says. "But it's a really good thing we were a good couple. So many escort-client relationships aren't. And it was a good practice run for the next famous guy I fall in love with, right? A learning experience."

Hannah eyes him dubiously. "You don't mean that, right?"

"Which part? The falling in love? Yeah, unfortunately, _six months_ of what I thought were real dates were enough to get me, but then, I've always been easy."

"No," Hannah persists cluelessly. "I mean the learning experience part. Because I don't think you're going to meet another famous guy and fall in love."

"Thank you, Hannah," Megan sighs, because some things never change. "Look, Kris, we're just saying we're sorry. We've been friends for years, please don't hate us. We meant well."

Kris says, "I’m moving back home while I look for a job," because he is, okay, he's not running away but he is leaving.

"That's stupid," Hannah says bluntly.

Kris laughs. "Well, I guess I'm stupid."

"If we call, would you answer the phone?" Megan asks, pinching Hannah.

Kris doesn't want to, but he promises he will.

His mother tries to invite everyone along for dinner but Megan's adept at making excuses. He sees his family off the next day, insisting he'll be fine packing up by himself. Cale's decided to stay through summer, but he won't help Kris even though all he's doing is hanging around. Kris has a lot of stuff he doesn't really need, but he puts most of it in storage. He's shipping most of his clothes home, even though the majority of them he'll likely never need to touch again.

Hannah texts him at the end of the week to tell him she's transferred all of Adam's payments through. Kris donates all of it to the Children's Diabetes Association

He keeps two suitcases' worth of things and hangs around an extra week to see some friends before he goes. It's early June before he books a flight home, and Cale's pretty eager for him to go. Kris suspects his girlfriend's going to move in, but it'd be nice to feel a little wanted.

But finally he's leaving; his flight's in three hours and he cannot find his fucking phone. His room is _empty_ , there's no way he's lost it in here, but he had it this morning and he hasn't left the apartment since he got up. Somebody knocks at the door and Kris huffs. Cale is gone, he said he was buying toilet paper or something, whatever, why hang around to say goodbye to your roommate of three years anyway, so Kris has to go answer it.

He doesn't do anything so undignified as squeak, but his kneejerk reaction is to try to shut the door. Adam says, "That's rude," through the door and knocks again. Kris opens it again.

"Hello," he says, like he didn't just slam the door in his face.

"Hello," Adam says. "Nice to see you again."

"Of course," Kris says, and, "What do you want?" because he has a plane to catch here and he still needs to call a cab and find his phone and tell his mom what time his flight's due in and—

"So, you're a lying little fuck," Adam says brightly.

"Excuse me?" Kris asks. Also, "No, back up!"

"You'll fuck me for free for half a year but I can't come in your apartment?" Adam says. "Strange priorities."

Kris freezes. "Hannah told you?"

"Megan, actually. Well, Hannah helped. And I'm pretty sure your boss was there. Pretty, older woman? Way too classy to be breathing the same air as the rest of us?"

"That's Anna," Kris says, because well, yeah.

Adam waits, staring at him.

"What?" Kris finally snaps.

"Are you going to _explain_?" Adam says. "And in the interest of full disclosure it'll be share and share alike, okay?"

"No," Kris says. "I have a flight I have to leave for."

"I can give you a ride," Adam offers magnanimously. "We can talk on the way."

"No," Kris says again. He just needs to call a cab and—

"I'll even give you your phone," Adam says, proffering it.

"The fuck?" Kris says. " _Cale_?"

"Yes, it was a conspiracy." Adam rolls his eyes. "They said they were tired of you moping around. Also, your boss said something about letting her down or lowering expectations or something equally disappointed."

Kris huffs, reaching for his phone. Adam surrenders it, surprisingly. Kris expected at least a token effort. He looks at Adam suspiciously. "I'm here in good faith," Adam says, raising his hands. "Completely upfront. I just want to yell and fight and give you a ride to the airport."

"I still think I'll decline," Kris says, swallowing hard. "Like you have anything to yell about. I never lied."

" _Omission_ counts—" Adam starts, but Kris snorts.

"I _told_ you. I said I'd dropped my clients—" Kris steps out onto the balcony. If they're going to do this he is damn well not going to be peeking around a door the whole time.

"How about next time you can tell me you _quit_ , something that's actually clear—"

"What the hell else does it mean?" Kris snaps.

Adam looks vaguely guilty.

"You did _not_ ," Kris says. "I kicked out Francis just for _asking_ to have me to himself, why the fuck would I agree to—"

"Hannah didn't say no!" Adam says loudly. "She said she'd ask you, and I'm more likeable anyway."

"You're fucking arrogant, that's what," Kris says.

Adam shrugs, unrepentant.

"Okay, fine," Kris says. "It was all a big misunderstanding. Can I go now?"

"No," Adam says incredulously. "That was just the basics out of the way. That's not why I'm here."

Kris stares at the church on the street corner. "I don't know what else you could want."

"Yes, you do," Adam says, fucking smug, and Kris really wants to just get out of here.

"No, I don't," he says instead, raising his head and smiling politely. "Would you care to tell me? I'm sure we can do something about it."

"God, you little—" Adam sighs.

"Say it," Kris says. "Or I'm going back inside."

"You little _whore_ ," Adam says. "Is that it?"

"Yeah," Kris says, hollow. "That is. Done now?"

"Sure," Adam says sharply. "Except for the part where I didn't come here to insult you. Fuck, I don't even consider that an insult."

"I don't either," Kris says. "I've _liked_ it. I'm _good_ at it. I did it for years and I didn't have to stop."

"So why did you?" Adam asks, and he doesn't look angry any more. He sounds curious, and patient, and exactly like this is what he was leading to all along. Kris really fucking hates him sometimes.

"I really hate you sometimes," he informs him.

"Why, Kris?" Adam repeats, and steps closer.

Kris backs up. "I told you. I dropped everyone after Francis."

"Fair enough," Adam says, smiling the way he does when he wants to kick Kris' teeth in for being stubborn. It's an odd look, too fond. "So that's the wrong question. What about why you kept me, then?"

He really is a terrible liar, Kris knows, so he shakes his head and blows out a breath.

Adam steps closer. "Or rather, why'd you still see me when you weren't being paid?"

Kris could tell him that Anna made him, he could say he liked the sex, he could say the checks were appealing when they'd come in, even if he hadn't expected them – but he doesn't know how much Adam already knows, doesn't know how much of this is really just a game to fuck with him, and he's tired, tired, tired. So he sighs and shakes his head and says, "Because I wanted to."

"So why didn't you tell me?" Adam asks sharply, and the anger's still gone but he's frustrated.

"Because I thought you _knew_ ," Kris says, backing up until he hits the door and leaning against it. He's probably going to miss his plane. "I thought you knew I'd quit, that I wasn't just your whore, that—"

"That you _liked_ me, liked me?" Adam says drolly. "I can see how I was supposed to gather that from someone who fakes it, fakes everything for a living. For fuck's sake, you never once so much as called me to talk to me unless it was about one of the nights we were getting together."

"Yes, I did?" Kris says, but he can't remember. He feels desperate enough to get away that he'd probably consider running back into his apartment if he didn't think Adam would follow him in.

"No," Adam says. "You didn't."

"Oh," Kris says. Then Adam's quiet, apparently done. Kris rubs at his eyes and says, "I really do have to go."

"Ask me why I'm here," Adam says before he can get inside. "Since I was duped into a relationship for half a year I think you owe me that."

"Fine," Kris says unhappily. "Why are you here?"

Adam says, "Because I got yelled at this morning by one of the scariest brothel owners I've ever met who told me in no uncertain terms that we're supposed to fight and make up. Then a girl who looked like she couldn't be out of _high school_ started giving me relationship advice. And then your roommate threatened to break my legs, which would be hilarious if my manager wasn't already threatening me with a bodyguard. And when they were all done I just wanted to know why you fucking stayed, and they wouldn't fucking _tell me._ "

"You already know," he says. "That's why you're here, after all. It's sort of an answer in itself, isn't it? I was dating you."

"Yeah," Adam says softly. "But I'm not making any more assumptions. I want to hear you say it."

Kris can justify it now, can say that he asked for it, and he spills everything he's thought since that night. "Because I thought you knew. I thought you knew that I'd quit, that I wasn't just your whore, that it was okay that I was falling in love with you." Adam blinks and opens his mouth but Kris talks over him. "Shut up. You introduced me to your publicist, and god, you realize I thought that you had told her I was a hooker because she didn't want you to date? I thought she was the one you were lying to. And you're fucking stupid, too, you realize that? You never paid the rates for me to pretend to be your boyfriend, I wasn't required to act when we were together at all, but you never fucking listen to anyone long enough to be told anything useful like that." Because that was one of the first things he'd done -- he'd looked at all the records, the personal and booking notes Hannah had in his file, and they'd never charged him more than the in-house rate.

"Done?" Adam asks.

"Yeah," Kris says, not that he even knows anymore. "Now leave."

"No," Adam says cattily. "I think you should at least hear my side."

"Your side—" Kris starts, but Adam leans forward and puts a hand over his mouth. Kris jerks back, snarling, but he doesn't say anything.

"So I signed up for this escort service, supposedly the best one in the city. I don't like prostitutes – don't make that face at me, you have to listen – because I'm not a fan of paying someone to pretend to be willing."

"So why did you fuck me the first time," Kris interrupts, but Adam lets him get away with it, "if the idea disgusts you so much?"

"Because I told you I wanted you more, and I hadn't even asked, really, but you gave me Tuesday. And I stopped caring that you didn't actually give a fuck about me," Adam says ruefully. "It was sweet, and I don't do well with impulse control." He goes on. "And by that point I was screwed anyway."

Kris scoffs.

"Yeah," Adam insists. "I was. Look, maybe I gave you the wrong impression. Maybe I was trying to."

Shaking his head, Kris takes a couple steps back.

Adam follows him. "I was led to believe it was still a harmless business arrangement, and I should have asked, just like you should've."

Adam's not done. "And one day you just tell me you're done, like it doesn't bother you at all. You didn't even care enough to stay for breakfast. What was I supposed to think?"

"You have commitment issues," Kris says, just in case Adam's forgotten. Just in case he's saying what Kris thinks he's trying to.

Adam shrugs. "It sort of snuck up on me. Should make my therapist happy though, don't you think?" He starts to smile at the end, and now Kris is backed completely into the wall.

"We both fucked up then," Kris says, because that's all there is left. Neither of them is going to apologize.

"I'm getting that," Adam says. "But it's too late now, isn't it?" But he's asking it like a real question, looking hopeful anyway.

Kris knows this part. It's the part where he remembers he's been a prostitute for four years, and Adam has some actual issues with that, apparently, and also he's famous and there is no way they can really date without every horrible piece of this mess getting thrown all over the walls. It's the part where Kris cannot be this fucking stupid and ruin his future for one guy he's known for less than a year and gotten paid to fuck.

So instead of saying no, no it's not too late and stepping forward to kiss him like the perfect ending to everything, Kris says, "Yeah. It probably is too late. We'd have to be fucking stupid to even try."

And Adam's face doesn't fall, exactly, but only because his expression gets too closed off to show anything at all.

So instead of stepping forward Kris steps back into his apartment, and because he may be fucking stupid but he is also fucking sick of one job dictating in life, he drags Adam in with him, and he kisses him anyway.

End.


End file.
